ADHOC
by SareptaCooperSmith
Summary: Sort of cliched postwar fic in which Hermione runs an orphanage and Draco returns home after years in exile. DHR DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all characters, etc.. associated therein are the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, etc...
1. Prologue: Return of the Prodigal Son

**Prologue: Return of the Prodigal Son**

Claxons wailed and Hermione could begin to hear the children stirring, crying and frightened, as she hurried down the hallway, wand in hand, her bare feet only skimming the cold floor as she flew to the source of the commotion. She shout-whispered orders at the dormitory attendants as she went: "Take the children back inside their rooms, keep them there. Keep them safe, whatever you have to do. Understand?"

She didn't slow to see their nodding heads. She was silently praying that the Aurors would arrive by the time she made her way down the massive hallway and stairs to the ….wait…main entrance? What kind of a burglar, terrorist, Death Eater breaks in through the main entrance?

Maybe one of the children inadvertently set it off…no…the wards had been set to send a different signal for a stray child. Her mind worked madly to come up with a reasonable, harmless explanation as she came sliding to a halt, wand drawn to the front entrance to find a cloaked figure , doubled over with his hands covering his ears, shouting something completely unintelligible. She had a strange feeling of deja vu so powerful, she struggled to stay focused. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her wand and yelled "Stay where you are. Don't Move. The Aurors are on their way!" But the person obviously couldn't hear her over the alarms. He was still shouting and she was able to catch one or two words, specifically "ME" and "AIR". She waved her wand to silence the sirens, and began to repeat her warning to remain still, but the words died in her throat, as the cloaked figure stood, pulled down his hood and drawled "THANK GOD! FIRST ORDER OF BUSINES WILL BE TO HAVE THAT OBNOXIOUS MONSTROSITY DISABLED!"

Hermione stood there with her mouth hanging open as the man finally noticed her and immediately screwed his face up in obvious confusion.

"Granger?"

"Malfoy?" She answered.

"What…what are you doing in my…" but he was interrupted by the apparition of no less than a dozen Aurors.

"FREEZE!" "DON"T MOVE!" they were screaming.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but didn't say a word as he threw his hands in the air as though he'd done this before.

The Aurors started toward him, but froze when the lead man recognized the suspect.

"M…Malfoy?" Lee Jordan choked out.

As if things couldn't get any worse, just as Jordan reached out to see if he was hallucinating, a high pitched wail sounded from the stairway.

"Miss Hermynee! We're scared!" cried a little red-haired girl in pink pajamas.

Hermione lowered her wand and half-ran up the stairs to the little girl and her two companions, none of whom looked to be more than three years of age.

Hermione scooped the little girl up "Oh Scarlet, it's alright," she cooed. "Let's get you all back to bed. Come on Emma, Portia". She paused half-way up the stairs and said, "I'll be right back, why don't you all wait for me in the Library. Malfoy can show you where it is".

The Aurors all looked stupidly at Draco. He couldn't even begin to shuffle through all the questions racing round his head, so he pointed in the direction of his father's pride and joy, the Malfoy Library, and urged his feet to move, one then the other to the large double doors. His shock when he pushed open the doors was apparent from the gasp that he couldn't quite manage to keep in. His father's, make that his grandfather's, once elegant, gentleman's library was barely recognizable. Oh, it was still a library, but the books were colorful and only filled up to the fourth shelf, about chest high. His father's desk was missing and the room was littered with short, round tables. Instead of the Rembrandt Narcissa had presented to Lucius upon his fortieth birthday, there were several dozen pictures of various animals, painted on parchment hanging here and there. He looked for a place to sit, but the leather wingbacks had been removed. The Aurors were now whispering amongst themselves and one of them, a woman Draco thought he recognized from somewhere, stepped forward and said "You know, we all thought you were dead".

"I was" he answered "Is this.., have you turned my home into some sort of …" but then changed his mind… "Where is my mother?"

The woman looked at her feet. "I'm afraid Auntie N. is (_aha. The blood traitor, Andromeda's, child_) is in St. Mungo's. When your father told her of your death, she went… well, sort of catatonic. She is better now, but has never been quite the same, you see. When your father died, she began to speak again, but she sort of drifts in and out of reality."

"When did my father die?"

"About three years ago. He managed to hang on for a long time after his final arrest. He received The Kiss, you know." Again, she looked at her feet, as though she felt guilty or worse, pity.

Pressing his mouth into a thin line to show his disapproval of the showing of emotion in front of non-family, he continued "Well, aren't you going to arrest me?"

"For what?" Lee Jordan asked

"My alleged crimes?"

Jordan smiled. "Well, we can't arrest you for breaking into your own house and as for your, uh, past indiscretions, between Lucius and Snape, they confessed to every dark deed you'd been accused of. In fact, your murder is the very thing your father received The Kiss for. He claimed to have killed you for refusing the Dark Mark and presented your mother with your broken wand, crying "the Malfoy line is ended". Perhaps you'd like to explain where you've been all this time"

Draco could barely find words to answer. He knew his father and Snape might try to clear his name, but he hadn't expected this. He cleared his throat, but found his voice was still rather hoarse when he asked, "What has become of Severus?"

"He's teaching at Hogwarts" answered a bossy voice behind him, that even after all this time, still made him wince. "Professor Dumbledore left a letter to be delivered to the Order of the Phoenix upon his death, explaining Snape's role as a double agent and the sacrifices they made to save your sorry hide. Snape turned himself in and took responsibility for every foul thing you'd been involved in, excuse me, allegedly involved in."

"Granger, take my cloak"

"I don't know who you think you are, Malfoy, but I am not your maid!" she half-yelled, readying herself for a fight.

Malfoy silently walked toward her and draped his cloak around her shoulders, pulling the closure together in front. Hermione stood there for a moment and then blushed head to toe as she realized she'd been standing in front of twelve Aurors and her childhood nemesis in a cotton night dress, which left little to the imagination when soaked with her sweat, as it was.

For the Aurors watching the scene though, there was something perhaps more shocking than all the other oddities they had witnessed heretofore, and that was Draco Malfoy, supposed scion of evil, standing before them, wearing the collar and cassock of a Jesuit Priest.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

They were all staring in a way that seemed as though they weren't. Draco wasn't about to alleviate their curiosity. Let them stew. He smirked in their general direction, but did not bother to address the unanswered question everyone was dying to ask.

"Well, as fascinating as all this is, I think the explanations can wait for morning." He offered.

"You don't mind coming down to the Ministry in the morning and giving a statement, do you, uh Mr… uh..Father?" Jordan said loudly.

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.

"Wait! You can't just leave him here!"

"Whatever do you mean, Granger? This is my home, or have you been squatting here so long, it's slipped your mind? I give you my word, I will not hurt a hair on your bushy little head and even if I wanted to do harm to you or your silt-blooded brood, the requirements of hospitality would stay my hand. We can sort out the details of your departure in the morning."

At this her face turned a familiar shade of red. She literally, looked as though she had become a human howler and he waited for her to explode.

The Half-Blood Cousin decided to intervene. She smiled and said. "Don't worry Hermione. I'm sure everything will be alright. If it makes you feel better, I'll leave someone here. The rest of us, however, have to be going. We've got **real** bad guys to catch, you know." She took her friend by the arm and led her toward the door, but Draco heard her whisper "He's just trying to rile you up. Let it go"

In a matter of minutes, the Aurors had all gone, seeming to have forgotten their promise to leave one behind to guard Draco. He looked about the library once more and pulled out a tiny chair at one of the tables. He gently lowered himself into it and sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands. Granger appeared at the door and said "You can sleep on the sofa in the Drawing Room. I'll leave some blankets there for you"

"The Master Suite will be fine."

"The Master Suite is now an infirmary"

"My old rooms…"

"Occupied. All of the bedrooms are occupied." She said nothing further and the look on her face made it clear to him that would be the final word on the matter tonight.

Draco was irritated at being made to sleep on a sofa in his own home, but he'd traveled far and was too exhausted to fight with her. He did, however, manage to get out one of the many questions which had plagued him for the last half-hour or so. "Granger, what have you done to my home?"

Her face softened for a millisecond before she remembered to whom she was speaking.

"The manor has been converted into a school, of sorts. It's now the Albus Dumbledore Home for Orphaned Children". Offering no other explanation, she left the library, his black cloak billowing behind her, closing the doors as she went.


	2. And The Light God Called Day

**Chapter One: _And the light God called Day… (Genesis1:5) _**

**Thanks for all who read, reviewed and encouraged me to continue**

**Disclaimer: All characters, place names etc… are the property of JKR, Scholastic, etc…**

Draco passed a very uncomfortable night on his mother's Empire sofa, which wasn't really made for a grown man to sit upon, much less sleep there. He supposed Granger thought he would just wave his wand and transfigure it into a nice, comfy bed. Little did she know, he hadn't picked up a wand since that night in the tower… Actually, knowing her, she probably suspected exactly that and thought it funny to doom him to a restless night on the dainty furniture. Consequently, he spent the night tossing and turning, pondering which questions he needed answered first thing in the morning and which ones could wait for later, feet hanging a good six inches off the sofa. He finally drifted off to a nightmare-riddled doze, haunted by visions of his father being chased by dementors.

Sometime rather early in the morning, he became aware of the voices of several people…small people. He covered his head with a pillow and tried to ignore the noise.

"Is he the one who set off the alarms, you think?"

"Probably…"

"Ooooh" a high pitched voice cooed "He's pretty. He sort of looks like the portraits upstairs"

"Yeah…you know, he kind of looks like Lord Sour Puss"

"Maybe he's related to them"

"No. One of them told me Lord Sour Puss is the last of this House"

"I don't think he looks like them anyway" a timid voice offered "He looks like…The Lady" it whispered. At this, all the children gasped in awe. Draco was soon relieved of his pillow which was replaced by a chubby hand on his forehead, pushing his hair aside. He popped open one grey eye and the children moved away from him collectively, as in a flock of birds. One small girl, the redhead from the previous night he thought, stepped forward and said:

"Hello. I'm Scarlet, who are you?"

"I am the 32nd Lord Malfoy. What are you doing, may I ask, in my drawing room?"

The children took another step back, but the redhead, easily the smallest of them, stayed put. "This isn't your house. It belongs to us… and to the Lady" she challenged.

"Children! Breakfast!" a magically enhanced voice rang out through the house. The children, mysterious stranger forgotten, ran out of the room in the direction of the grand dining hall his parents used for dinner parties when he was young. Scarlet stayed behind and offered him a hand. "Would you like me to show you the way?" she asked.

"I know the way, thank you, however a Malfoy never comes to the table without being properly attired" he replied, gesturing toward his trousers and tee shirt, the only items left on after his arrival the previous night. "You go on and I shall join you once I am presentable." The little girl nodded, smiled and left through the French doors leading to the dining hall.

Draco looked at his travel-worn cassock and decided the elves must have something cleaner he could wear. He made his way to the eastern side of the house, where the family rooms were once situated. Upon arrival at his old suite, he found it to be locked. No wand in hand, he paced the hall for a moment before one of his grandfathers, Hiero, whispered "Use the key, boy". Smiling he reached up above the door, took out his mother's "emergency key" and let himself in.

His childhood suite was comprised of three rooms and a large dressing area. The bedroom had been his since infancy, and served as childhood quarters to the Malfoy Heir since the house was built in the 16th century. The bath, along with the dressing area, was added during his grandfather's time and the third, a rather large room, Lucius had added for Narcissa upon Draco's birth. She was unable to sleep very far away for fear he would need her in the night and wanted to tend to him herself instead of hiring a governess or having an elf do it, so a room was added to the nursery which could be accessed through the dressing area or the bath. His parents relocated there until he was weaned. If ever anyone doubted his father's dedication to his mother, that story usually put wagging tongues to rest. Of course, Draco couldn't remember any of it, so it was anybody's guess as to whether it wasone hundredpercent true. That room had served many purposes. After Narcissa and Lucius moved back into the master suite on the third floor, it became a playroom. Later, he and his friends used it as kind of a "headquarters". They had parties, practiced magic (despite school and ministry rules forbidding it) and dreamed of their futures as the rulers of the wizarding world there. He smiled fondly at the memory.

The bedroom itself looked about the same but for new bedding. The furniture was even arranged in the same manner. The bath appeared as it ever had and the dressing room looked as if it had been converted to a make-shift storage area (were all the attics full?) He made a mental note to address this unacceptable situation with the elves. The extra room, however, had been transformed into a rather crowded study library. The walls were lined with shelves, even to the point of having them in front of windows. Every shelf was crammed full of books and seemed on the verge of collapse; several of them sagged under their burden. A large desk (his father's?) occupied the middle of the floor and two leather wingbacks framed the hearth. "Granger" he cursed under his breath.

'Well", he decided, "first things first." Get clean. Find an elf. Visit Mother. Go to the ministry. Evict the interlopers.

He showered and signaled for an elf. None came. He grew very irritated, but said a quick "Our Father" and decided to look for something to wear. Inside the boxes piled in the "storage room", he found a mixture of his old things and some foreign objects he decided must belong to Granger. He managed to find a suitable pair of black lounge pants with a drawstring waist and a large green tee shirt which proclaimed him captain of the fifth year"Slytherympics" Team. It was a good thing; he didn't think he could've fit into any other of his clothes from boyhood without considerable alteration.

Forgetting his promise to Scarlet of going into the dining hall, he made straight for the kitchens. Surely he could find an elf there who could help him come up with something more presentable to wear to the ministry and to visit his mother.

Upon entering the kitchen, however he found no elves, but the Headmistress herself, unloading trays of empty porridge bowls into a device Draco recognized as a muggle dishwasher. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Granger!" he barked, causing her to startle, dropping several bowls on the slate floor.

She turned her gaze upon him, clearly annoyed. "Are you still here? I thought you changed your mind and disappeared in the night…again."

"Ha. Ha. What have you done to my elves?"

She looked at his apparel. "Put the priest costume away until the next Fancy Dress Party?"

He hadn't had this much trouble maintaining an even temper in years. "I asked you a question" he demanded, through gritted teeth.

"Did you?"

"WHERE ARE THE ELVES?"

"I set them all free. First thing I did after receiving permission to convert the house" she said, matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean, set them free? All of them?"

"Of course all of them! They were slaves. Did you think I would keep one or two for my own personal use?"

"Where are they?" He said, trying to regain the calm he knew lay within himself.

"What do you mean 'where are they'? Gone. What part of SET FREE wasn't clear?"

"You mean to tell me you set eighty-two house elves free without considering where they would live? What they would eat? How they would earn a living? Who would protect them from the ferocious beasts that live in the forest surrounding the manor grounds?"

She looked pale. Draco thought she would speak as she opened her mouth but no sound came out. She finally managed to say, in a very small voice, "The ministry cleared the forest of all animals Class XXX and above".

"Oh and where've they gone? Off to the zoo? A home for orphaned roonspores? I see you haven't changed one iota, Granger. Jump headlong into trouble, without looking to see on whom you might land. Save the world first and ask questions later."

"Excuse me, the world wouldn't need saving if it weren't for men like you!" she screeched, finding her voice again.

Spots of color formed on his pale face. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going into the attics to find something decent to wear and then to see my mother" he huffed.

"The attics?"

"I'm presuming that's where you've banished my father's robes? My old ones don't fit any more."

"The Ministry burned all of your father's personal objects. Why don't you just alter your old ones?"

"I… I don't practice magic anymore. I suppose I'll just go to Diagon Alley and buy some new ones."

"You'll need permission to spend money from the Estate's Vault and I'm afraid the executor won't think clothes are a justified expense."

"Exec…what? You know what? Forget it!" he screamed, finally losing his temper for real. "I'll just **go** as I am!"

She watched him storm away, but before he crossed over the threshold leading from the kitchen, remembered what she'd been contemplating before he came in. "WAIT!"

He turned. "Aren't you going to give a statement to the ministry?" She asked.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I do plan to give them a statement, as well as a piece of my mind about the sad state of affairs around here. You might want to pack. You and the miniature mudbloods will be out of here before sundown."

She harrumphed and fumed before stomping after him. "Well, for your information _Father Malfoy_ (and what a good example of Christian brotherhood, you are by the way), I am coming with you. I plan to plead our case directly to the Minister for Magic and see that he sends you to jail, where you belong!" She stomped away from him muttering "As if they would put children in the street with no where else to go! (The next bit was unintelligible) Well, I've got news for you, your highness, but things have changed…."

He sighed a long, frustrated, semi-growl. It had been a very long time since he'd lost his temper. Or argued with another person. Or used a racial or ethnic slur. That curly-headed beast just brought the worst out in him. She made him feel like he was fifteen all over again, throwing hexes at each other across the halls of Hogwarts.

He just hoped the Ministry would see reason and return his home to its rightful owner.

Hermione stomped up the stairs to her quarters. When she arrived to find the door ajar, she thought she might've forgotten to lock it in her usual morning rush. When she stepped into the steamy bathroom, however, she let out a frustrated howl that sounded a whole lot like "hot man mouth boy" to the portraits in the hall. They were all pondering the meaning of this when Lord Sour Puss informed them that she had, in fact, said "God Damn Malfoy!" Of course, none of them believed him. For one, the Headmistress didn't curse and for another, he'd hated her from the day of her arrival and was always trying to convince the others she wasn't worthy of their admiration. He was in the middle of just such a tirade when she emerged, swearing on all that was holy that she would see "that imposter" put where he belonged and the school made safe for its rightful owners, if it was the last thing she ever did.


	3. The Wisdom of Solomon

Chapter Two: The Wisdom of Solomon

Draco decided he would rather look travel-worn than ridiculous, so he made his way back to the drawing room to fetch his discarded cassock and roman-collared shirt from the previous evening. On the way, he passed a room which used to be the domain of his tutor, Miss Borgia, and was currently full of laughing children. Curiosity took hold of him and he stopped to listen at the partially open door.

There were seven or eight very small children sitting in a circle on a braided rug (which clearly had never belonged to anyone named Malfoy). Periodically, they would break into the silliest song he'd ever heard and then stop to allow one of their number to add something. The other children would giggle hysterically and then continue singing. They sang:

The tyrannosaurus rex goes roar, roar, roar,

Roar, roar, roar,

The tyrannosaurus rex goes roar, roar, roar,

All around the swamp

The triceratops goes poke, poke, poke,

Poke, poke, poke…..etc…

The children seemed to know an endless stream of names for those imaginary animals with frightening Latin names. (This was probably Granger's doing, he figured). Suddenly, the door was pushed all the way open and he was greeted by a smiling, blond boy of about four.

"Would you like to come in and join our song, Lord Malfoy?" he asked. "If you don't know any dinosaurs, I could help you."

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, young man. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Oh, I'm Asher" said the little boy, offering Draco his hand.

Draco took it and allowed himself, bare feet and all, to be led into the room. It had received a new coat of paint in a rather obnoxious shade of puce. Once he was properly past the door, he noticed the children's teacher for the first time. She was young; he guessed no more than twenty. She blushed, smiled and said "Hello, I'm Claire."

"Hello Claire" he answered absently, observing the room and looking at each of the children upon which, he discovered the twin of the child who'd invited him in. He noticed Scarlet, the redhead who seemed to be everywhere he went, was waving wildly at him. He nodded his head in her direction as acknowledgement and said, "Well, thank you for inviting me in, but I must be going".

"Wait!" Scarlet cried

He turned and raised an eyebrow to silently let her know there was no need for yelling.

"I want you to meet my friends" she pleaded, with her eyes wide and lower lip protruding, which made her look like a small, sad puppy "Please".

"Very well" he said, a little annoyed that this small girl felt she had some claim to his time and attention but unable to find it within himself to tell her no.

"Why don't you have a seat and we'll introduce ourselves" Claire suggested.

Draco sighed and sat in a space next to Scarlet, who had silently bullied the others into making room for him.

"Right. I'll start and we'll go clockwise (she motioned with her hand and the children mimicked her) until everyone has said their names. Now, I'm Claire."

The next child, the other blond, said "I'm Asa, Asher is my brother"

Next came Liam, then Emma and Portia, whom he'd sort of met the previous night.

After the girls, there was Asher, and then a boy called Trystan, who took quite a bit of prompting before he whispered his name. Next was Scarlet. After her turn, Draco looked at the child on his left, but Scarlet, pushy little swot that she was, elbowed him in the leg and said "YOUR TURN".

"I'm Draco Malfoy"

"Why did you tell us your name was Lord Malfoy?" Asher wanted to know

"That's his title" Claire supplied

"Like a book?" giggled the yet unnamed girl on his left

'Sort of"

"So what do we call him?"

"Lord Malfoy" she looked at him uncertainly, "Unless he gives you permission to call him something else." He ignored her implied request for familiarity. He'd waited his whole life for his turn to be Lord Malfoy and he was going to enjoy it while he could, however short a time that may be.

Draco was looking for a quick exit. Honestly, he had more important things to do than sit about playing pat-a-cake with the preschool set! He poked the last child in the leg and did a dead-on (he thought) impression of Scarlet, "Your turn".

The children laughed until Claire quieted them and motioned for the last child, who said her name was Kitty. The child had no sooner spoken the last syllable when he stood up and said "Well, lovely meeting you. I really must be going" and walked quickly out of the room before Scarlet could come up with another reason for him to stay.

When he arrived back at the drawing room, which so far, seemed to be the only room left unchanged in the entire place, he found his vestments freshly cleaned and set out on the sofa. The bedding he'd been given the night before was nowhere to be seen. He pondered this for a moment before concluding it must have been Granger and shrugged. Why would she do such a nice thing for him? Surely she wasn't trying to get into his good graces? Maybe it was pity. Well, no matter. She'd be gone soon enough.

He dressed quickly and made to leave only to find the floo had been disconnected. About the time he'd decided the best course of action was hunting Granger down and taking her to task for it, she appeared at the door of the drawing room. He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since his return and realized his house wasn't the only thing that had changed since he'd fled almost ten years before. Hermione Granger had an aura of confidence about her she certainly hadn't possessed at sixteen. Her skin was flushed and her eyes alight, but her face held a pleasant, neutral expression. She was obviously still furious, but was doing a better job of hiding it than she'd done in the kitchens.

"Would you mind telling me how I'm supposed to get to Diagon Alley, the Ministry or St. Mungo's with no floo and no wand?"

"I'll side-along apparate you"

"Oh no you won't. I have private business to take care of today and you are not entitled to poke your nose in just because you think you have permission to live in my house."

"I DO have permission from the minister for magic, himself. Besides, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to just burst in upon your mother. Even though she's still quite fragile, she's made great progress and I'm afraid the shock might be too much for her."

He was taken aback at her concern for his mother, but his old habit of sneering at the showing of emotion returned as he snapped back at her: "My mother is no concern of yours. I'd appreciate you keeping out of it."

"I've grown very fond of your mother over the years. We have learned to rely on one another, as we're both a lot like the children who live here, orphaned and alone." she said quietly.

He had no reply so he just said "Let's go".

First, she took him to Diagon Alley and then to Gringotts. She was quiet the whole trip and made no comment on the wide-eyed staring and dropping jaws of the witches and wizards they passed on the way and Draco was grateful for that, at least. Next, she stood quietly by as he spoke to a goblin who, after several minutes of checking files, produced a letter, written in his father's hand. It had a simple message, followed by half a dozen sets of numbers. It said:

_I knew you'd return to us someday; a true Malfoy to the last._

He showed the goblin the numbers and his suspicions were confirmed. His father had salted away billions of galleons worth of gold in Muggle Banks in Switzerland. Draco smirked, Lucius was a sly old fox; of course he'd have put the bulk of his ill-gotten gains beyond the reach of the ministry's money grubbing bureaucrats. What Granger had been given, was the money left "for show" to the wizarding community. He was suddenly feeling a lot better as the goblin sent an owl and informed him that all of the money would be transferred to a new account, in his name, before the day was out. Well, at least he wouldn't starve. Granger seemed interested in the comings and goings of the other bank customers and he wasn't sure if she was even aware of anything that had transpired.

Their next stop was St. Mungo's. Granger broke the silence at last. "I have to warn you. She might not know you and even if she does, she may think you're a ghost."

"You go in first Granger. Prepare her." She nodded. In truth, he was feeling a little nervous. His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding in his chest. He could hear Granger say "The most wonderful thing has happened. A miracle really…."

He turned to walk down the hall and find some water when he heard his mother scream. His heart raced and he felt light headed. Fighting his way through, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

She looked fifty years older than the last time he'd seen her. Her beautiful blonde hair was now completely silver and cut short around her heart-shaped face. She no longer radiated grace and poise, but seemed frightened and lost. It was heart wrenching to look at her. When his gaze reached her eyes, however, he felt some relief. They were the same, unchanging azure which had given him comfort his whole life, the same eyes he thought of during the times of utter despair he encountered during his last year at school.

"Draco?" she whispered.

"Mother" he replied

She was upon him in an instant, kissing him everywhere she could reach. Crying his name over and over again and saying "my god, my god, how can this be?" Then a light came into her tear-filled eyes as she realized the truth. Her husband had told her, in his last visit before being executed, that he'd hidden all their treasures away in a safe place. "Lucius!" she cried "Lucius, bless you! Bless you, you sly old fox!" and she dissolved into blubbering tears. Not knowing what to do, Draco held her close. Their touching reunion was interrupted by Granger's voice. "I'm just going to give you two some privacy. I'll go talk to the healer about the new developments."

"Oh no! You mustn't go Hermione!" Narcissa insisted "Draco, don't let her leave. If it weren't for Hermione, and the children, I'd have killed myself long ago." Then something else occurred to her and a horrified expression came over her face. "On second thought, Hermione, go. Go and talk to the healers. Tell them I can go home now, that Draco has returned. I….there's no reason….oh, but….I want to go home. Draco, you will let me come home, won't you?"

Hermione shook her head very imperceptibly, no. Draco smirked at her and cooed "Of course you can, Mother. I'll get your rooms all ready for you. I just have one little matter to clear up with the ministry and then I'll come back to fetch you."

"Oh no, Draco. I can't live in the main house anymore. That belongs to the children. Besides, your father has passed on. That means it's time for me to assume my place at Dowager House"

"Oh." The headmistress exclaimed. "Dowager House is a kind of dormitory for our faculty, now"

"Well, I'm sure there's room enough for all. The more the merrier" Narcissa said.

"Yes. Granger, where's your sense of adventure? It'll be great fun!"

She huffed exasperatedly and left, muttering about finding a healer.

"Draco, you shouldn't tease her. She's really a wonderful girl and she's been so kind to me."

"Yes, well…. Wonderful for a muggle-born, you mean?"

"No, I mean wonderful. Surely, after having lived with muggles for so long, you don't still hold onto your old prejudices?"

"Only for her. How do you know I've been living with muggles?"

She gestured toward his vestments. "He sent you to France, didn't he?"

"You know about that, too? Am I the only one who didn't know?"

She smiled. "I found out quite by accident."

"Well, keep it quiet, will you? I'm still not certain what I'm going to say to the ministry about it. I'd like to tell them the whole truth, but I don't want to let all the skeletons out of the family closet unless I have to."

"Well, dear, do what you feel you must. After all, you are the head of the family now."

At that point, the healer came in, followed by Hermione. He explained that a full evaluation would be required before Narcissa could even visit the manor, much less be released. Narcissa seemed sad, but Draco promised her he wouldn't rest until she could return home. Then, he told her he had an appointment with the Ministry and would return to her everyday until she could leave with him. She cried as they departed and Draco felt a longing for home he hadn't felt since the day of Albus Dumbledore's funeral. He watched his mother hug Hermione Granger and whisper in her ear and then turned to go. Granger could find her own way to the ministry building.

Four hours and six interviews later, Draco found himself sitting next to Granger in front of Arthur Weasley's desk. The Minister was scratching his chin and muttering "what to do…what to do…" Upon the desk, Draco could see a copy of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet, with a picture of his sixteen year-old self under the headline "MALFOY HEIR ALIVE".

Suddenly, the minister received a memo, which smacked him right in the middle of his Weasleyish forehead. He read it, mumbling as he went. Finally he looked up at them and said:

"The matter of theMalfoy Estatewill be brought before the Wizengamot. However, as their docket is quite full and probating estates is not a high priority, you will be added to the bottom of the aforementioned docket.

"BUT THAT COULD TAKE YEARS!" Hermione shouted.

"Unacceptable" Draco said, calmly

"What do you expect us to do in the meantime?"

"Hmmmm…." He scratched his head some more and finally said "I know! Cut the child in two!"

"WHAT?"

"You'll just have to share. Ms. Granger, I expect your full cooperation in this matter. Father Malfoy, the Ministry will expect your cooperation as well, or we may re-consider the charges against you." Before either of them could open their mouths, he held up a hand "This my final word on the matter. That estate is enormous. Certainly, you can co-exist there for a few months while we get this all sorted out."


	4. Forty Days and Forty Nights

**A/N: I tweaked the last chapter a little. I just hate stories where Draco looks up and goes "WOW, she's hot!" And yet, I did exactly that. Needless to say, I changed it.**

**Subtle. Subtle. Subtle…..I like my romance subtle…..**

**Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews…**

**The normal disclaimers apply…**

**I really struggled with this chapter. I know where the story needs to go, but I'm not sure about changing the dynamic between the two principle characters.**

**Chapter Three: Forty Days and Forty Nights.**

Hermione banged her head against the desk. It had been ten days since the meeting at the Ministry and she'd only reached one conclusion about the whole, ridiculous mess: allowing Draco Malfoy to move into ADHOC was an unmitigated disaster. He caused chaos wherever he went. He put the children up to mischief, talking them all into refusing to eat porridge (which he'd taught them to call gruel) for breakfast unless the faculty agreed to serve hotcakes once a week. He refused to clean up after himself, saying "Well, I'm not the one who freed the elves, am I!" To make matters worse, everyone loved him. The children called him "Lord Malfoy", which made her want to gag (and a few had begun, to her horror, to call her "Granger"). And worse even than that, the entirety of the female staff with the exception of Hermione and the ninety-year-old nurse, Muriel, were inexplicably smitten with him (and Hermione wasn't entirely sure about Muriel). But the absolute worst thing about having him around was having to share space with him.

It became apparent fairly quickly that he wouldn't be able to stay at Dowager House with the off-duty teachers. They kept trying to sneak into his room and "accidentally" walking in on him in the shower. The steward kept a cottage out near the stables, but when she suggested he stay there, he pretended not to hear her. After two days, he demanded space be made for him in the "family wing". The Master Suite, which comprised the entire third floor, was now the school's infirmary. He might have been able to sleep there, but for the little tyke, Misha, with Dragon Pox. Apparently, one of Malfoy's grandfathers had died of the disease and he refused to go anywhere near the third floor. The children and various on-duty staff members took up all the guest rooms, all the other rooms, save the drawing room, were used for classrooms, which left only her suite. At first she tried to talk him into magically expanding the house. It had been done before, but he flatly refused to pick up a wand and infuriated her further by informing her only a Malfoy could modify the house when she'd mumbled about doing it herself. So they struck a compromise. He took back "his room" as he called it and she conjured a bed for herself in the midst of her study. If that wasn't humiliating enough, they were forced to share bathing and dressing areas. When she huffed about it being inappropriate and a bad example for the children, he said, with a smirk, "No worries, Granger, not even you, in all your furious, questionably-birthed, wild-haired beauty could tempt me to break my vow of chastity." It didn't escape her notice that he said chastity and not celibacy.

Speaking of vows, she wondered, how about poverty? Though the hypocrite refused to use a wand, he certainly had no trouble with owls or the floo. He'd ordered enough robes, shirts, trousers, etc... to clothe all of wizarding Britain. "It is not a sin to be properly attired" he assured her. As far as she was concerned, he was the worst priest in history. He drank, smoked a pipe and never prayed or attended mass (not that there was a church in which he could anywhere close by). He seemed to hit the Seven Deadlies on a daily basis. She ticked them off on her fingers: Lust (he made eyes at every female on the premises over the age of fifteen), Avarice (he'd cackled with glee when the goblins informed him the Ministry hadn't seized all of his father's assets, just those in Britain), Sloth (the aforementioned not picking up after oneself), Envy (…well, she hadn't seen him display any jealous tendencies so far, but she'd seen enough in her school days to last a lifetime), Pride ( vanity, thy name is Draco, the clothes, the primping…the dressing room mirror was too exhausted from praising him to bother insulting her), Gluttony (…not so much… but still) and the worst, Wrath (of course, it only seemed aimed at her… but it was still unbridled fury, for absolutely no reason she could see other than the fact that she had turned his family home into a school for the very people he'd been raised to fear and loathe…for it was true that most of the children at ADHOC were muggle-born). She raised her head at the sound of giggling in the hall. Slowly, she made her way to the door and peered out. There was Malfoy fumbling at the door of his room, followed by a clearly inebriated Claire Clearwater. She huffed, "so much for chastity, poverty and obedience."

"Ms. Clearwater? Aren't you supposed to be attending the nursery tonight?" She asked, stepping into the hall.

"OH! Ms. Granger, I didn't see you there. I was…. I was just going to borrow…hiccup... a book from Father Draco. I …switched duty with Elanor…"

Hermione shot Malfoy an angry look. He on the other hand looked as innocent as could be. "In future, Ms. Clearwater, you should inform me of any changes to the duty roster. Now, it's very late and I suggest you turn in."

She watched the girl, blush from head to toe before turning to walk away, head down in shame. Once she was out of earshot, Hermione spun angrily on the bemused lord of the manor. "What the HELL is wrong with you? That girl is nineteen years old!"

"It was all very innocent, Granger. She was telling the truth. I found her drunk and heading for a rendezvous with a boy in the village. I was going to loan her a copy of _St. Augustine's Confessions_. I thought it might help her to find her way"

"I'll just bet you were. Since when have you had a problem with drinking?"

"All things in moderation, The Bible doesn't restrict drinking. Christ's first miracle was to transform water into wine, if you remember." He pronounced this little lesson in a very soft, soothing voice. It unnerved her to have him speaking to her in such a way, so she rolled her eyes and returned to her room, slamming the door as she went.

She was absolutely furious! Did he think she was blind? She tried not to think of what might have happened if she hadn't put a stop to it. There was a knock at the bathroom door. She pulled it open with a little more force than necessary and tried not to look at him as he stood there wearing nothing but his black lounge pants from the day after his arrival. "WHAT?" she bellowed, all the while looking at the wall behind him and not directly at him, half dressed as he was.

"I neglected to tell you earlier, I received an owl. The Ministry has scheduled a preliminary hearing about the estate thirty days fromtoday at eleven o'clock."

If she'd paid attention, she might have noticed that he wasn't looking directly at her, either. Even if she had, she'd have chalked it up to his not being able to lie to her face. "You received an owl? Odd, I didn't receive one."

"Actually, if you must know, it was addressed to both of us…"

"I see. Very well, I'll inform the executor. We should probably have a meeting."

"You do that. Good night, Granger."

"Malfoy"

"Yes?"

"If you so much as lay a hand on one of my teachers, I'll hex you into an unrecognizable state."

"I told you…"

"I know what I saw!"

"Believe what you like, I'm not interested in hearing anymore of your fevered delusions" he said as he disappeared back through the door.

Hermione stomped around her room for a full half-hour, muttering about pureblooded prats before she finally was able to get herself under control enough to start strategizing.

She had to find a way to get Malfoy away from ADHOC for good. She'd hoped the ministry would have detained him at least for a while in order to sort out the half a dozen or so investigations associated with him at the time of his disappearance. There is no possible way he could have satisfied all the questions they had for him in the short time he'd visited. How could they be absolutely certain he wasn't a threat? How could they just set him loose in a school full of innocent children? When she'd questioned Arthur about it, he'd said it was "classified". She snorted. "Classified" probably meant they didn't know any more than she did. Malfoy had wormed his way out of telling them where he'd been and what he'd been up to.

Well, if he wasn't going to provide answers, she was going to get them herself and if she just happened to find incriminating evidence that would swing the Wizengamot's decision in her favor, so be it. She stalked to the floo and called out "Ron Weasley's lounge!"

**A/N: As I said, I struggled with this chapter. Modern priests take oaths of chastity, poverty and obedience, which translate to celibacy, a turning from material desires, and humility and obedience to God and the Church. After doing a lot of research, I discovered that priests used to be required to take oaths of chastity, not celibacy. Celibacy for clergy is only a tenet of the modern Church. In fact, there have been twenty-six married popes! The difference is this: chastity is a virtue; it's the willing preservation of one's purity. In the Medieval Period, Priests would take vows of chastity, or in other words, promise not to marry and produce heirs (for this interfered with the Church's ownership/stewardship of property). So, when Hermione notices that Draco has promised chastity and not celibacy, she most certainly knows the difference.**


	5. The First Commandment

**Chapter four: The First Commandment**

Draco was in the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where he'd seen Quirrel feasting from a slain unicorn his first year. The pungent smell of blood hung in the air. He forced himself to keep quiet as he tried to make sense of the scene. The circle of Death Eaters before him parted, as the Red Sea, and he stepped toward The Dark Lord at their center. Without conscious thought, he dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of his master's blood-spattered robes. He tried to look upward in order to gage the tyrant's reaction to his latest failure. Before he could open his mouth to make another excuse or beg for his life or that of his mother, the Dark Lord stood and kicked him in the shoulder, sending him into a prone position on his back. As The Heir of Slytherin brought his booted foot down upon Draco's nose with a sickening crunch, he roared, red eyes gleaming "I am the Lord, thy GOD! Thou shalt have no other gods before me!"

Draco sat up, wide-eyed panting and sweating to find himself safe and sound in his room at the manor in Wiltshire. He looked around and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Thanking the Creator for tender mercies, he crossed himself, said a Hail Mary and flopped back on the bed. He'd been reliving the horrors of his last year at home nightly in his dreams since returning there. He wondered if it was all in his head or if the house was imbued with some ancient magic, some dark force that was calling him to service. He pulled himself up to fetch his discarded bedclothes, which he'd kicked to the floor in the throes of his nightmare. He froze half-way to the floor as something caught his attention, however. He tensed, as he realized someone had been in his room. There was no sign of the clothing he'd worn the day before and the papers and letters the ministry had sent over pertaining to the Estate's upkeep and expenses were neatly arranged on the writing desk in the corner instead of spread out on the floor in front of the leather wingback he'd reclaimed from Granger's study, where he'd left them. He wrinkled his brow as he crept toward the bathroom, grabbing an old beater's club from the dressing area shelf as he went, just in case. He grabbed the handle and jerked the door open, which was a bad idea because he was instantly blinded by the bright lights of the bathroom. Luckily, there was no one in the bathroom, or the dressing area, or under the bed, or in the hallway…just sleeping portraits of his forefathers. For the first time, he noticed the portrait of his father on the end furthest from his door. Taking a moment to study it, he decided it wasn't a very good likeness, too dour and not nearly aristocratic enough. Moving on, the weary wizard spent a good forty minutes searching for an intruder before deciding he must have forgotten putting the things away himself. He was, after all, exhausted from lack of sleep and growing more stressed by the day.

Shaking his head, and resigning himself to another sleepless night, he sat down at the desk, taking out a quill and parchment. He began to compose a letter to his true Superior.

He scratched his chin with the quill as he thought of a way to explain the delay in his work. As he wrote the half-truths on paper, the voice of his old master echoed in his head, cold and rasping, just as he remembered it.

Before long, he heard Granger stirring in the bathroom and looking down at the words "…have successfully convinced all who dwell here that I am the same spoiled, rude, incompetent brat I ever was. They seem to have bought it easily enough…" and decided to add a little fuel to the fire. He plastered the hated smirk on his face and jerked the door open. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to find on the other side of the door…perhaps Granger in the process of brushing her teeth or climbing into the shower. He certainly hadn't expected to find one bare-assed Ronald Weasley relieving himself in the bidet. He closed the door quickly and tried to remember the curse for gouging ones eyes out before remembering instead, that he had no wand.

It wasn't ten seconds before Granger was banging on his bedroom door bellowing about privacy. Well, as long as he was laying it on thick… He pulled open the door and said "So, I see why you wound up an old-maid, minding the orphans while everyone else moved on and made their own offspring… why would Weasley buy the cow, when you're clearly giving him the milk for free?"

"For your information, Your Holiness, Ron came over last night to help me with a project. He spent the night on the couch in the drawing room and was just showering before work. I suppose it was too much to expect you to observe a few boundaries! And for your information, this cow was never for sale!" She stormed off and Draco decided he was too tired to push her any further before he'd had a good strong cup of tea.

As he entered the kitchen, he encountered Weasley again, sitting at an island in the center of the kitchen drinking tea. Silently, he poured himself a cup and sipped it. Weasley cleared his throat twice before finally saying "So, the Warrior Priests, huh?"

Draco coughed and sputtered "What!"

"The Jesuits… you know, the Counter-Reformation?"

"Oh, oh yes. Warrior Priests." He desperately scrabbled around in his sleep deprived brain for a change away from this way-too-close-to-the-mark subject. "So, still haven't managed to close the deal with Granger, huh?"

Now Ron sputtered and spit tea on the counter, but it was from laughter, not shock.

"Not even bothering to claim me any more, then, is she?"

Draco shot him a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow to emphasize the fact that he had no earthly idea what the moron was going on about.

"We used to be married. Ages ago. Don't look so concerned. It was an amic..amiab…well, it was a friendly split"

"Leave her for Potter, did you?"

At that point, Hermione entered the kitchen behind him and said "Ron got Harry in the divorce. I got half a million galleons and my name back."

"What'd you do to get half a million galleons, Weasley? Sell your soul to Potter? Sell something else to Potter?" This received no reply, so he tried again. "So, you two just decided you had nothing in common besides an overgrown hero complex and…" he didn't get to finish his insult.

"Ron couldn't keep it in his pants"

Weasley's face turned red and he sputtered again, "I told you, I wasn't sleeping with her!" He bellowed.

"I know what I saw"

The conversation gave Draco a weird sense of déjà vu and he took it as his cue to leave. His mother was expecting him early today. They were going to talk about her possible homecoming and Lucius… and France….

As the blond wizard exited the kitchen, he said "Thanks for the tea, Weasley. It was surprisingly adequate"

Ron stopped mid-rant and looked at Hermione. She thought he was just shocked at the rare show good manners from his former rival, but he surprised her when he said "I didn't make the tea. It was all laid out, hot and ready when I got here a few minutes before him".

"Must have been one of the other teachers" she said, their fight forgotten.

"Yeah. One of the other teachers. Well, I've got to be going" He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Forgive me?"

"Of course." She smiled "Give Harry my love."

"I'll owl you as soon as I know more. See if you can get him to talk about why he's come back. Even if he tells you a lie, it will give us a starting place."

Meanwhile, Draco encountered a large group of children in the dining hall. It was the first time he'd ever seen all of them in one place. He hadn't realized there were so many. He wondered if there were always so large a number or if something besides the war had happened more recently to land them in Granger's care. Come to think of it, a goodly number of them were too young to have been orphaned by the war. His thoughts were interrupted, as ever, by Scarlet.

"Lord Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to see the Lady today? Miss Claire says you go and see her everyday."

"Yes, she's my mother, you know. A Malfoy always looks after his own." He knelt down so he could look her in the eye and notice she had freckles across the bridge of her nose, just like Granger. Shaking off that random thought, he said, "Why do you ask?"

"I want you to take her something for me"

"Of course"

She produced from (an obviously magically expanded) pocket a small nosegay of roses and a little card with a crudely drawn picture of Draco surrounded by children in the garden, with the large house in the background. Underneath, it said "We Miss You".

"The flowers are from her garden" Scarlet explained "Elizabeth helped me with the words".

"I didn't realize you knew her so well"

"Oh yes, the Lady comes to see us at Christmas and Easter and sometimes in June"

"June?"

"Yes, but I like it when she comes at Christmas and Easter better because she brings presents. In June, she's always sad"

Draco's heart ached a little at the small girl's obvious affection for his mother. He wished, for the first time in years, that his life had been a little different. That he might've been able to fill his mother's garden with laughing, golden-haired granddaughters or mischievous, grey-eyed grandsons and that he had given her no cause to be sad. "Theirs is not to reason why. Theirs is but to do and die" he mumbled. "Thank you Scarlet. I'll give them to her."

"And this" she said, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.

He was embarrassed by the lump in his throat caused by this small gesture so he got up and walked quickly back to his room without giving the tiny witch a backward glance.


	6. Every Man Shall Bear His Own Burden

**Chapter Five: "Every man shall bear his own burden" Galatians 6:5**

Draco sighed. When he met his mother again and all the days since, he'd thought his cousin was the crazy one. Indeed, his cousin, the healers and even Granger had kept on insisting that she wasn't well; that she didn't have a firm grip on reality but he'd seen no evidence of it…until today.

He knelt before the altar of the Blessed Mother in a church in Muggle London, lighting candles and praying for his mother. His mind was not cleared. He didn't feel the normal dispersion of anxiety and fear this ritual normally gave him. He removed himself to a back pew and replayed the day's events in his mind, skipping over the part with Weasley in the bathroom.

When he'd arrived at the hospital, he instantly knew something was amiss. The ward doors were locked. When a matron finally admitted him, she explained that one of the patients was having a particularly bad day and they feared she might attempt to escape. Therefore, the entire ward had been locked up and anti-apparition charms had been placed all around the room. He felt a stab of dread as he entered his mother's room.

His cousin, Nymphadora, was there holding her hand. Narcissa was weeping and saying "Oh, Andi, what will I do? This was supposed to be the happiest time of my life and now, I'm afraid to take another breath!" Nymphadora played along and pretended to be her mother, patting her aunt on the hand and cooing "It's alright Cissy. Everything will work out fine." Narcissa looked up at Draco and ran to him "Lucius, thank goodness you're home! Did you tell him? What did he say? Does he have a plan?"

Draco was taken aback. She thought he was his father! What should he do? He looked up at Tonks, who mouthed "Play Along". He wrapped his arms around her and assumed his father's best scowl, the one reserved for letting one know when his behavior wasn't appropriate for one of his station or when one came in second best in grades to a muggleborn…again. "Don't be cross" she whispered, drawing thin, frail looking hands across his jaw. "I'm just anxious. Chalk it up to pregnancy hormones." She smiled.

Draco struggled to keep a straight face and led her to the chair she'd been sitting in before his arrival. He gently helped her into it. "Tell me, he said in a voice a bit lower than his own, what you'd hoped I'd find"

Timidly, she answered "Well, I suppose I hoped that your father would be happy about the baby and perhaps find some way of helping us to hide from the Dark Lord the fact that we are even having one for a while longer."

"Why would we want to do that?" he asked

"Lucius, don't make me say it! You're a very good occlumens, but if there is a memory of me talking about the prophesy, he might know you've told me. I don't want to talk about the Dark Lord. He frightens me. What did your father say? Was he terribly happy?"

Draco smiled as he remembered his grandfather, Abraxas. He may have seemed dark and stern to everyone else, but he was as jolly as an elf at Christmas where his grandson was concerned. "Yes. Ecstatic" he answered.

"Wonderful!" she beamed "If he's happy then he'll help us hide the baby from the Dark Order a while longer."

"Why would we want to hide him from our friends?" Nymphadora asked from across the room, where she was looking out the magic window at Narcissa's raised garden at the manor.

"Andi, I told you already. Severus overheard a prophesy in Hogsmeade in August. He said the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born at the end of July and that he will be born to those who have defied him three times"

"But…" Draco started. Nymphadora shot him a warning look to let him know she would handle the questions from here on out. He wanted to argue, but wanted to know more about these cryptic words worse, so he shut up. "I thought the baby was due in June, Cissy?"

"That's what Lucius told me to tell everyone. He's due the last week of July. Lucius says if worst comes to worst, we'll bring about the birth as soon as it's safe for the baby."

"But, Cissy, why are you worried? You two haven't defied the Dark Lord? Have you?"

"The less you know about that, the better, Andi" she replied mysteriously.

Then, just as though a switch had been flipped, she became herself again. She looked up and said "Draco, darling when did you arrive? I didn't even hear you come in! I must be going quite deaf in my old age! Say hello to Nymphadora. She's your Aunt Andromeda's daughter."

Draco and Tonks greeted each other, smiling and then Tonks made a quick excuse to leave. He wanted to chase her, to swear her to secrecy about what she'd just heard, warn her that though Voldemort was long gone, there still might be danger in revealing his mother's secret, but he knew he wouldn't be able to leave without making his mother worry, so he resigned himself to stay and floo Tonks later.

Narcissa was going on about Halloween, which was fast approaching. She wanted to give the children at the orphanage a celebration and hoped she'd get to be there to host it.

"That reminds me, Scarlet sent you these" and he pulled the roses and card out of his pocket.

"Scarlet? The darling little blonde girl with curly hair?"

"No. Red hair. Freckles. Very precocious. About so high." He held up his hand

"No dear, I remember her now, a very sweet child, but I'm certain she has blonde, curly hair and grey eyes."

"You must have her confused with someone else. There are a lot of children there. A lot more than I thought and I noticed that some of them, Scarlet, for instance are too young to have been orphaned during the war. Do you know what else might have happened to cause such a rise in their numbers?"

She was smiling at the card and pointed to the figure of a little redhead holding Draco's hand "See, there's Scarlet, blonde hair and curls. What were you saying? About there being so many? Well, that's all Arthur Weasley's fault. A few years ago, when he became Minister, he wanted to implement a program to help muggleborns integrate more smoothly into wizarding society. He made Hogwarts inform the Ministry whenever a magical child was born to muggle parents. He then set about to inform the parents of these magical children as to exactly what they were and what they might expect in terms of accidental magic and the like. He obviously gave the muggles too much credit, for a large number of them elected to abandon their offspring rather than raise "monsters". There were even a few deaths before the imbecile realized his mistake and repealed the policy. Still, the damage is done. Poor Hermione certainly has her hands full."

Well this was certainly news to Draco. How horrible. He decided he'd been there long enough and said his goodbyes, concluding his mother's delusions about Scarlet were exactly that, the ravings of a mad witch. After leaving the hospital, he tried to catch up with Tonks at the Ministry but she wasn't working today. On his way to her flat, he'd stopped into the church where he was now sitting. He decided to return to the manor and owl her from there. Surely, she wouldn't go running off and telling anyone a nearly thirty-year-old secret she thought was the product of her aunt's unbalanced imagination. He concentrated on his childhood home in Wiltshire, determined to read every one of Abraxas' memoirs before he turned in for the night and apparated away.


	7. Non ducor, duco

**A/N: I was getting a little side-tracked from the story I want to tell by the back story of Scarlet, so instead of letting Draco find out about her little by little, I decided to tell all in one go. I give you, Scarlet's story.**

**Chapter six: Non ducor, duco**

Draco spent the rest of the afternoon rifling through attics, looking for his grandfather's memoirs. Not only could he not find the writings of Abraxas, the wise old wizard who taught him to perform underage magic under the noses of his parents, the ministry and even Hogwarts' staff without detection, but the attics were also bereft of many of the family "heirlooms" he knew they once held. There used to be a set of old grimoires, medieval spell books one of his grandmothers who fancied herself an alchemist had left "for posterity". He'd gotten more than a few of his greatest schemes and gags from those books. It was a shame they were gone. He wondered if the ministry had seized them and perhaps held them in storage or worse, if they'd been burned along with Lucius' belongings.

He sat on a dusty old settee, holding a moldy copy of the Malfoy family motto, _non ducor duco_, which had been embroidered on a small silk pillow. He furrowed his brow. The irony of those words, _I am not led; I lead_, weighed on him. They had always given him comfort, assured him of his superiority. Now, however, a feeling of tremendous loss and grief over the lives his father and his grandfather and all his forbearers for time out of mind had been forced to live. None of them had a choice, from the founding of his family; they had all been enslaved to the Dark Order; always believing the next generation would be the one to break the bonds, seize control and wield ultimate power in the name of Malfoy. Each had believed his heir to be the next Dark Lord. It never worked out that way from Medraut to Grendelwald to Voldemort, his family carried the burden, bore the expense, but never were given a chance to sit upon the Dark Throne. They had lied, stolen, murdered and betrayed their own kind and in return had been deceived and cheated, taken for suckers. His father had thought he was buying Draco a pardon when he put him aboard that boat to France, but really, it was just a postponement of the inevitable. The Dark Order called his blood. A new Dark Lord would rise and shortly, be demanding fealty. The urge to obey was near impossible to resist. Every bit of training he'd ever received from Societas Jesu was employed to avoid answering the call. He knew what must happen. He had to find those memoirs. Not just those of Abraxas, he realized, but all of them. The writings of his ancestors all the way back to 1067, when William I ordered them to England from the Aquitaine. He must be the one, he Draco, last of his house, would break the bond and destroy the Dark Order once and for all. At this realization, an old familiar fear gripped him, a reminder of his last year at school and his failure in the tower; he felt as if he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs, as if the house itself would suffocate him if he didn't exit immediately. He ran down the stairs, through the halls, nearly running over several children and out the drawing room doors into his mother's garden. There, he doubled over, panting heavily. Then, as he knew it might, he fell forward and the world went black.

Drifting up out of darkness, Draco's senses returned to him one by one. First he heard a soothing voice followed by a heavenly scent. Next he was aware of soft touches caressing his brow and then a peppery taste as a warm liquid was slipped into his mouth. Finally, blurry shapes emerged and as his vision returned, he realized the Headmistress was tending to him. They were inside; he was lying on the drawing room sofa, which had been lengthened to accommodate his height. There were children standing outside, with their faces pressed against the glass in the veranda doors. Claire was keeping them at bay, but pacing back and forth with a worried look upon her face. He tried to sit up, but the groan which escaped his mouth caught Granger's attention and she pushed him back down. "Lie still and be quiet" she cooed. For some inexplicable reason, he was reminded of his mother and therefore complied without argument.

"What happened to me?" he croaked

"You blacked out. Claire and the children were in the garden. They saw you rushing outside and it appeared as though you were running from something. Claire said you stopped suddenly, breathing quite heavily and keeled over. Hyperventilation would be my guess."

He didn't answer but made to get up again. Again she pushed him down and he couldn't help but wonder at what point she decided it was acceptable behavior to lay hands on him. Worse even than that was the realization that he didn't particularly mind the touching. It was actually rather soothing. Given his vocation, he didn't have physical contact with others very often.

"You need to lie still"

"I'm better. I was in the attic and I guess it just got a little close in there. I was headed outside for air and … I guess I didn't make it."

"Have you ever exhibited symptoms of claustrophobia before?"

"No. Look, I told you…"

"What were you doing up there?" She asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Granger, I was looking for some things that belonged to my grandfather. We were rather close and I wanted to read his memoirs. My father wouldn't let me see them when I was younger. I assume they were rather explicit in their detailing of Grandfather's exploits."

"Memoirs? They probably went with all the other books. The Ministry seized every tome in the house." She replied in a rather sullen tone.

"Where are they now?"

"I tried to get them to return the books after they'd had a chance to inspect them and eliminate any with possible dark magic, but they told me information about the Malfoy Library was classified."

"That's ridiculous. We didn't own any dangerous books," he fibbed. "Can't you get your friends to pull some strings? Isn't Potter an auror? Weasley too?"

"You're asking me to get Harry Potter to help you?"

"I suppose I am. Please, it's important, to me, at least."

She raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I get the feeling this isn't some sentimental trip down memory lane, reminiscing about what a ladies man Grandpa was."

He gave her the sincerest pleading look he could muster and said "My grandfather was a good man, Granger. He lived here, in this house, with us when I was a boy. We were close. That's all there is to it."

He rose from the sofa and walked to the door, looking out at the children. Scarlet was there and smiled, waving at him. He returned her smile and decided he wasn't through asking Granger for answers.

"Granger, one other thing, I couldn't help but notice earlier that you've turned the apparition chamber into some kind of battery for the house. I saw generators and such. How do you keep all these muggle things that run on electricity going while surrounded by so much magic?"

"You apparated?"

"I guess I did" he said absent-mindedly

"YES, I guess you did." He thought she was angry, but he really didn't know why.

"You know, the longer I stay in the house, the harder I find it to control my innate magic. It just manifests itself subconsciously."

"Subconsciously? What do you mean?" Now that he'd piqued her curiosity, her anger fell quickly by the way. (Surprisingly, this was a lesson he'd learned from watching her interact with Weasley)

"Well, I think I accidentally cast scourgify on the bathroom the other day."

"I don't think I've ever heard of anyone casting a cleaning charm on accident. Usually they're defensive spells which manifest themselves when a witch or wizard is in danger"

"Yes, but accidental magic usually only happens to young children, not a fully trained adult"

"Hmmm. So you think the house is some sort of conduit for your magic? Is that even possible? You've given me something to think about." she said as she followed him out of the drawing room.

"Well, at least the day's not a total loss then. My mother may be as mad as a hatter, and my grandfather's books may be gone forever, but I have made the great know-it-all of Gryffindor House have to think"

She shot him a not-so-friendly look.

"Now, now, Granger. I wasn't trying to insult you. It's not everyday a person of your intellect is presented with a head-scratcher"

She smiled "A head scratcher? Is that a technical term?"

He smiled back but didn't answer.

"How was your mother? I take it she's having a bad day."

"That's putting it mildly. She's raving. She thought I was my father."

"I'm sorry. She does that from time to time. She thinks I'm her cousin Cassiopeia sometimes."

"Now that IS raving" Hermione's expression clearly indicated that she thought Draco was making some inference to the impossibility of them ever being related or something of the sort when he surprised her further by saying "We don't have a cousin named Cassiopeia."

"Oh." After a few steps in awkward silence, she said "I was just going to have some tea; would you like some? You look as though you need it."

"Thanks. That would be nice."

As they entered the kitchen, they found steaming hot tea waiting for them complete with sandwiches. Draco raised a brow and Hermione raised both as they looked at one another.

"You don't suppose you accidentally made tea, do you?"

"I….just… I don't quite know"

"You don't suppose it could be a ghost?"

"A ghost who makes tea?" He laughed "Even better, a Malfoy ghost who makes tea?"

"What are the other possibilities?" she asked as she poured the tea and handed him a cup

"I suppose one of the teachers or older children could've done it"

"Really? They all seem to be too busy to anticipate when you want tea and then come running, only to disappear before you've enjoyed it…. Though, the younger teachers do seem to have taken a liking to you, especially Claire. She was absolutely frantic earlier."

"Yes, well, I can't help it if I'm naturally charming… speaking of charming, what can you tell me about Scarlet?" he asked, the matter of the mystery tea forgotten.

"Scarlet?"

"Yeah. Little red-haired girl about so tall with an overabundance of personality"

"Red-haired?"

"Yeah, with brown eyes and freckles"

"You see Scarlet with red hair?" she laughed

"Yeah, why? Actually that's the odd thing, my mother seems to think she's a blonde"

"Oh" she smiled

Draco was getting irritated "Come on, Granger, if you know something, say it. The Cheshire Cat routine doesn't suit you"

"Fine" she said, with a sparkle in her eyes. "If I tell you, will you tell me something?"

"Very well, but you go first"

"Alright. Scarlet is very special. She was the child of a very odd pair of sorcerers who dabbled in experimental spells, the Bodes. You may remember her uncle Broderick, the one with the horns? Well, the entire family was cut from the same cloth. Her parents both worked for the Ministry as unspeakables. In fact, that is how they died. Her father, according to his research notes, was brewing a potion he thought could be used to heal broken hearts. As you know, love is a very strong and volatile element. Though we can't be certain exactly what happened, the experiment went wrong and entire house was destroyed. No one knows how Scarlet managed to survive. Now, that doesn't really have any bearing on your question except for the fact that we believe one or both of her parents had, while conducting experiments with boggarts (they were trying to come up with more effective ways to disguise oneself), they accidentally (or possibly, on purpose) mixed their DNA with that of the creature. Her mother mentioned the possibility during her gestational treatment at St. Mungo's. When Scarlet was born, she looked normal, so the healers didn't worry about it further, but when she came here, I noticed everyone seems to see her differently, just like a boggart."

He interrupted her. "But I'm not afraid of little red-haired girls"

"It doesn't work that way" she explained. "She has some kind of extra-sensory perception. Scarlet looks the way you expect her to look. I suspect when you saw her the first time the night you arrived, you thought she was my child, so you expect her to look a certain way. Your mother, who probably secretly pines for grandchildren, expects her to look sort of like you. I suppose when she gets older, she may be able to anticipate a person's fears and manifest herself in that manner, but as she's still an innocent, she looks the part."

He didn't know what to say. "Wow. That is not what I expected…Tell me, how do you see her?"

"She has brown hair and eyes. She always wears her hair in braids. Kind of like me when I was her age"

"What does she actually look like?"

"No one knows. Maybe her parents knew, maybe when she looks in a mirror…but for the rest of us, perception shapes experience."

"Does she know?"

"I'm not sure. She's only four, so it's difficult to determine exactly what she knows"

Draco rose from the table and was just about to offer his thanks, when she flashed him a bossy glare. "What?"

"Your turn to answer questions"

"Oh. That. Look, Granger, I'd like to, but really, I shouldn't." But, seeing as how explaining to her how dangerous questions could be might turn out even more dangerous than providing a simple answer, truthful or not, he changed his mind…"Very well, ask."

"Why did you come back?"

He thought of the answer for a while and said "Well, you see I'm on a sort of involuntary sabbatical. Last year, I was serving in this small parish in the Philippines and there was a girl in a local village…"

"Enough. Enough. I'm sorry I asked" she said, placing both hands over her ears and rising from her chair

"Granger, it wasn't what you're thinking!" he called after her retreating form, smirk firmly in place.

Clearly, their short-lived attempt at detente was at an end.


	8. Our Saving Grace

**A/N I'm sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I'd like to say "I'm swamped with RL" but the truth is I've a wee small, mild case of writer's block. Snippets come to me here and there, but really, it's just a trickle, compared to the river of ideas I normally have to jot down everywhere. I would, therefore, like to apologize in advance for the quality of this all-too-brief chapter….. However, a word of advice to all of you kids out there, the best cure for writer's block is more writing. Just work through it, even if everything you write during the drought goes straight to the garbage, its okay. Just don't give up.**

**Our Saving Grace**

Hermione tossed and turned. She just couldn't shake the feeling that "Father Draco" was up to no good. She just…. Perhaps she'd been reading too much of "The Wife of Martin Guerre" but she just got the feeling that the man sleeping ten feet away from her was not who he said he was. In fact, ever since his little "confession" the yesterday, she'd grown increasingly nervous about his presence in the house. So many innocent children….so many young, naïve teachers….

She wrestled with her worries for another hour at least before she got an idea. With an evil smirk to rival that of Malfoy himself, she donned her dressing gown and went into the corridor outside her chamber. The portraits of the previous 31 Lords Malfoy were happily napping in their frames. Over the years, she'd found the portraits of the house (particularly those of the women, but there were no females allowed up here, Lords only) helpful. They contained a wealth of information. Though they were but shadows of their former selves, the portraits retained the memories of their subjects' lives up until the time they were painted. The frames themselves were uniquely Slytherin in that there were serpents carved here and there into the wood of each one. In fact, one of her early attempts at breaking the ice with them, was to ask about the various serpents found in the architecture around the house. The 17th Lord Malfoy, Titus, informed her that the serpent, particularly when he is in the form of the urobouros, is a symbol of the eternal bond found in one's family and contained the blessings of one's ancestors. She liked the men in the portraits and they seemed to like her well enough…randy old coots. It was only after Narcissa requested the official portrait of Lucius be hung the summer after his execution that Hermione realized how much discord lay between the generations of wizards. Normally the portrait of Lucius refused to speak to her, or for that matter, even look at her. He normally looked toward the end of the corridor, as though he longed to hop out of his frame and escape. His grandfathers had chastised him repeatedly for not acting more gentlemanly toward the Headmistress, but he usually ignored them too. However, she couldn't help but notice the interest he showed since Draco had arrived. Tonight, she would use every iota of cunning she possessed to outwit him, for even though the portrait was but a shadow, Lucius Malfoy was still a sly old fox.

Imagine her shock when she entered the corridor to find the object of her thoughts engaged in a whispered conversation with the subject of her plot. He stood before his father's portrait, arms clasped behind his back with blond head bent forward so his hair fell upon his face. He wore a long black robe made of some odd material that seemed to suck the light out of the air around it. His voice was low, almost a hum. She might have stood there, observing him, deep in thought and sharing a very private moment with his father, for a very long time, had Hiero, the 23rd Lord, not spotted her and exclaimed "My dear! What ever are you doing up at this hour? You should be abed, getting your beauty sleep. Not that she needs it, eh boy?" He said to Draco.

Draco's head snapped up and he gave her a curious stare. Hermione noticed the smirk on Hiero's face and got the feeling he'd ratted her out on purpose. She blushed and looked at her feet as though she were a naughty child caught doing mischief.

"Granger. I hope all is well?" he queried.

"Fine" she stammered "Just going…ah… to the kitchens…"

He passed a significant glance toward his father's portrait, who was scowling the most foul looking frown she'd ever seen (and that was saying something considering she'd been present at the fall of Voldemort). "I'll join you" he said

As they were walking away, bawdy old Hiero said in a sing-song voice "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" at which point, His father, Magnus, reached through his frame and smacked him atop his head. "Don't be fresh with the Headmistress, whelp!" the older man snarled, causing both the young woman and Lucius' heir to laugh as they headed for the stairs.

About half-way down Draco suddenly stopped. He stopped laughing, stopped walking and just gawked at Hermione.

"What?" she asked "I'm wearing a dressing gown over my pajamas, so I know I'm not sporting transparent clothes this time, what is it?"

"I can't believe I'm walking down a staircase in my childhood home with a muggle-born witch. Further, that muggle-born witch is the mighty and feared "Triple B" of Gryffindor, whom at least one, if not all of my grandfathers seem to be smitten with and finally, I find it astounding that for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, we are laughing and carrying on like old friends."

He thought she might take offense and fly off the handle, but instead she said "Triple B"?

Now he was the one blushing and looking at his feet. "Oh. That was a codeword the boys in Slytherin used for you when we were in school so the gossipy girls in our house wouldn't know about whom we spoke."

"Did you have names for all the girls in our year?"

"Yes, most. Not…. Millicent Bullstrode, for example. Just…. Well…eligible ones"

"You and the other Slytherins thought I was "eligible"?

"Come on, Granger, we were teen-aged boys. It was a miracle we didn't think McGonagall was "eligible".

"Oh" she said, in a crestfallen way "So then, what do the three b's stand for?"

"Well, at first they stood for…. Buck-toothed, Bushy-haired and Bookworm"

"At first?"

"Yes, but I am too much a gentleman these days to enlighten you as to the words the three b's evolved into by sixth year, except of course for Bookworm, that remained constant."

She blushed and he could see the wheels of her mind spinning.

"How about that snack? Or drink? Or whatever you were going to the kitchens for?" and he held his arm out to her.

She took it and they continued. "You really mustn't get mad at old Hiero, you know. He doesn't really get to see many women, just me and an occasional teacher or visitor. I imagine it's quite lonely for them up there."

"Yes, well, there is no excuse for behaving like the village idiot. It's amazing the others have anything to do with him at all. Does he hit on the other teachers too?"

"No, just me. I suppose he thinks it's funny"

"Or, he just has good taste in women. It's a shared characteristic of Malfoy men, in fact, you might say, it's our saving grace."

They entered the kitchen and Hermione thought she saw a flash out of the corner of her left eye. She looked more closely and decided it was a trick of the light. She pulled out items for a sandwich and began preparing them while Draco made tea. After several minutes, she decided the night's efforts might not be lost after all and she asked: "Malfoy, I cut you off yesterday when you were going to tell me about the Philippines. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to hear the story"

He stared at her for a long moment before beginning "Well, ah… as I said, I was serving at a school in a small Philippine parish. I met several young men and women there with whom I felt a kinship. You see, in this village, young people didn't really get much of a say in their own lives. Their elders, parents, grandparents, etc… made decisions about schooling, occupation, apprenticeships and even marriage for them. I had one student in my theology class; she was called Marites. She was absolutely brilliant and dreamed of going to the city or even abroad to further her studies. Her parents were indebted to a wealthy family in the village who wanted her for their middle-aged, nebbish of a son. She was heartbroken at the prospect of marrying this man. Her future would've held nothing but household labor and child-bearing. She would, literally, be enslaved by this man. First, I tried to persuade her father to let her go into the convent, nearby. She would've been allowed to continue her studies, at least. He refused, saying his family honor demanded payment of the debt. I offered to pay the debt for him. He refused and banned me from their house. Well, several other things happened in the mean time and it became clear to me that if I didn't act, the girl would be forced into this unacceptable situation, so I arranged for a friend of mine in Manila to help her sneak out of the village and put her up for a while. Later, we arranged for her to join a convent in Spain and the Church unwittingly paid for her escape. Her parents accused me of being in love with her and hiding her away for myself. There was an inquiry and in the end, the Superior General of my order was brought into the matter. Even though he believed me; he suggested I take some time off to tie up loose ends, put some old demons to rest and return home. So, here I am."

Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve "Did you?" she asked

"Did I what?" he returned

"Love her?"

"No, I didn't love her, but I empathized with her"

"I'm sorry for the way I reacted the other day. I… thought….I …"

"It's alright, Granger. No need to apologize. I'm going up to bed. Was there any message you wished me to deliver to the portrait of old Hiero?"

She smiled and threw her napkin at the swinging kitchen door. Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe he was telling the truth, she concluded as she cleaned up the mess she'd made, never noticing that Draco's place cleared instantly when he left the room.

Meanwhile, upstairs, as Draco passed his father's portrait, the older wizard said "Well?"

"Hook, line and sinker" the younger man answered. Then, in a sort of odd Malfoy Domino Effect, each of the thirty-odd Lords smirked identical smirks.


	9. Blessed are the Merciful

**Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy….**

**Chapter 8**

Draco was half-way to the ministry, already working out the wording of the complaint he was determined to file when Tonks caught up with him.

"Cousin, please wait. I want to explain!" She begged

"Explain it to your boss; better yet, explain it to the Wizengamot before they put your filthy, half-blooded, betraying carcass in Azkaban."

Her eyes went wide. Did she think he wouldn't turn her in? After what he'd walked in on not ten minutes before? After what she'd done and had probably been doing for years?

"Please. Please, calm down. Can we just talk about this?"

"There is nothing to talk about. YOU wormed your way into my mother's heart and used her to further your own interests. YOU betrayed your family, just like your mother before you"

He made to turn and continue to the ministry but was cut off by the waifish but deceptively strong auror. She placed herself in front of him, hands on hips, shouting "How dare you talk about my mother! It's because of your idiotic family and others like them that she was cut off from her sisters and parents! She died heartbroken because they wouldn't have anything to do with her! Not even after the war! Do you want to know why your mother was never sent to prison? Because MY MOTHER, THE BLOOD TRAITOR, stuck up for her! And besides, I do have Auntie's best interest at heart! If she gives the ministry the information they want, they might eventually let her go."

"MMMMmmmight eventually let her go?" He was flabbergasted….. "Is the ministry responsible for holding her there? Is there anything really wrong with my mother?"

"I… I don't know anymore. At first, the Minister was certain she was faking to avoid prosecution or to protect your father, but now, I'm just not sure."

"OF COURSE" he said disgustedly, "You've performed so many questionable, possibly illegal spells on her, it's certainly possible that she **was** pretending at first but is now permanently damaged"

"Yes" she murmured "It's certainly possible"

"WHY?" he demanded

"I was just doing my job"

He turned again. He felt ill and just needed to get away from her before he did her a harm, or worse, before she did him one.

She opened her mouth, closed it and then opened it again. Finally, she quietly offered, "You shouldn't file a complaint. They already know. They're the ones who ordered me to do it. I…. I'm really fond of her, you know. I'd never…"

"Shut up. Don't you dare say you're just trying to help."

Tonks looked at her feet. "It would probably be better for her if you didn't let on to the Ministry that you found out…. No telling what they might decide to do next"

Draco's mind was racing. He was trying to cope with the vision in his head of his mother's forced interrogation and later obliviation at the hands of people she trusted and reconcile the fact that he was going to have to be just as underhanded if he wanted to salvage the situation. Maybe he could turn this unfortunate discovery to his advantage.

"Come" he said, "Let's go some place and talk"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione was awakened later that night, or possibly early the next morning by a cacophony of sound coming from the corridor outside her room.

"Preposterous!" one of the grandfather's shouted

"Heinous! This affront cannot be borne!" another said "I demand retribution!"

She groaned if they kept on in this manner they would wake…. A loud wail from the foot of her bed cut off her thoughts. She hurried to the old cradle she'd rescued from the attic and tried to soothe the fretful infant crying there. He only seemed to become more agitated. She began to pace, rocking him to and fro and singing little bits of long-forgotten lullabies. Before too many more minutes passed, there was a knocking at her door. She prayed it was Muriel, come to save her from the third night in a row of walking the floor with this squalling baby. She knew it wouldn't be, though. Muriel was up to her eyeballs in a Dragon Pox epidemic. Fourteen children and five teachers were holed up in the infirmary. Muriel was having to give them nearly constant attention. She didn't have time for a colicky foundling, as she'd very haughtily informed the Headmistress three days before when the baby was found by the Steward on the front doorstep with no note, no word of how old he was or who his parents were.

She pulled open the door to find the current Lord of the Manor looking disheveled and exhausted. She didn't say a word, but handed him the infant. He began to pace up and down the hall, humming. She stepped out into the hall and asked old Heiro what the commotion was about. "Family business" he informed her. She noticed Lucius was not in his frame.

"Where has Lord Sourpuss gotten to?" she asked

"He's gone to visit the picture of himself my mother keeps on her bedside table" Draco answered.

"Is everything alright?" she asked

"So, thought of a name for this tyke?" he asked. She felt he was avoiding her previous question, which was irritating, but she needed to stay on his good side. He was the only one who seemed able to comfort the new orphan and she couldn't afford to be at odds with him, so she let it go.

"Tom" she answered.

He stopped pacing and looked at her, wide-eyed. "You want to name him after … after You Know Who?"

"Well… it's … you see, I always felt that what happened to Tom Riddle was …. Well, tragic. He never had much of a chance to turn out well, really….. So ….. If he'd only had the tiniest bit of love or caring….. things might have been different… it was one of the reasons I started this place…." She blushed "Mad… I know"

His expression softened and he looked at the baby. "Tom, I hate to say it, but I see her point. How about a little nip before bed?" He turned and left for the kitchen.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning, Draco was on his way out the door to meet his new, unwilling accomplice, Nymphadora, and check on his mother. He was stopped at the entrance hall by Scarlet.

"Good morning, dear lady" he greeted, feeling better despite his lack of sleep.

"Good morning Lord Malfoy" she said

"Why may I ask are you out here alone?"

"My teacher is sick"

"Dragon Pox?" he asked, subconsciously taking a step back

"No. Just sick"

"Perhaps you should return to your class before you're missed."

She crossed her arms over her chest and reminded him, eerily of Granger back at Hogwarts.

"What is it?" he asked, exasperatedly.

"WE HAVE NO TEACHER" she said, emphasizing each word.

"AND?" he asked

"I want it to be you" she said, shyly (which, he thought, wasn't like her at all).

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to teach us." This time, she gave him what he'd come to think of as, "the face".

He sighed loudly and took her hand, "Okay, but just for today." On their way out to the veranda where the other children were waiting, he asked "So, what are we learning about?"

"We're supposed to go out to the pond and learn about the 'abitat."

He considered for a moment and said "Alright."

Upon arriving at the pond, they were greeted by a rather green-looking Claire.

"Children! There you are! Father Draco! You don't have to…." but she suddenly threw her hand over her mouth and began running for the house. The children made all sorts of interesting noises attempting to impersonate their nauseous teacher.

Draco took several minutes to calm them down. Next, he asked them what they thought they should do. No one seemed to have any idea. Of course not, he thought, they're only four years old….. Thinking back to when he was four, he decided to spend the morning the way he and Old Abraxas would spend them when he was very small. After half and hour of searching the potting shed, they'd unearthed some cane fishing poles. They used bits of ham for bait they'd gotten from the breakfast dishes someone had neglected to wash in the kitchen. As they settled down to wait for the fish to bite, he pulled out his pipe. The children delighted in the intricate smoke rings he blew and giggled as they floated on the air over their heads. Just as Asher suggested he attempt a pirate ship, a shrill voice cut through the air. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Granger was making her way across the grounds, spitting mad and carrying Tom in the crook of her left arm.

"Teaching" he said

"Where is Miss Clearwater?" she asked

"SICK!" the children chimed in

She groaned, looked to heaven and took a deep breath. When she'd schooled her features into one of a more professional expression, she said "Malfoy, I'd like to see you in the Library when you get a chance. The Trustee is coming by this afternoon and would like to speak to us both" With that, she grabbed the pipe out of his mouth and said "And NO SMOKING AROUND THE CHILDREN", then stomped away.


	10. Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting

**A/N: All apologies to my regular readers. This chapter is only about half finished. I don't know when I'll be able to finish. My husband's father died suddenly this past Saturday. We're all still in shock. The funeral was yesterday. Today, my husband and kids go back to the world and I will go over to my mother-in-law's house to help her begin to write thank-you notes, take care of the life insurance filings and try to put her life together without her partner of over forty years. **

I wanted to touch on two things: First, thanks to all of those who read and review regularly, even when there's nothing new; and second a couple of notes on the text. The name Conrad was chosen for Warrington because it means _wise counsel_. I chose Warrington because though he exists in canon, he's been given no personality, so I could provide my own.

**Disclaimer: All characters, place names etc… are the property of JKR, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, etc..**

Draco hadn't liked Conrad Warrington as a school boy and he liked him even less now. His mother was some distant cousin of the Malfoys who married beneath her station yet, because the new husband, poor though he was, was a pureblood, the family was still admitted in good society. As neither of them had any siblings, their mothers often encouraged them to play together. Draco remembered how even at the age of six, Warrington had one face for adults and another when alone with other children. He was a schmoozer and a manipulator. His mother thought Conrad was an angel and when Draco went to Hogwarts, she always asked if they saw each other much and tried her best to get her son to befriend the older boy, so it was no wonder Narcissa consented to allow his appointment by the ministry. Warrington's over-loud voice, colorful (and by that he really meant tacky) clothing choices and a general obnoxious "nouveau riche" attitude which hadn't changed, were more than Draco could stomach. That and add in the fact that the lout was currently, judging by the leer on his utterly un-malfoy-looking face, thinking lurid thoughts about the headmistress (in front of Tom, no less!) and you had more than enough reason for his current sour attitude.

Of course, Hermione thought Draco's dislike of Conrad was due entirely to the fact that this former Slytherin had been given complete control over the Malfoy demesne, the assets assigned to ADHOC and the care of his mother. In short, he was taking care of all of the responsibilities normally assigned to the family's heir. She also thought Malfoy might be a little jealous of the handsome, friendly, well-mannered barrister. After all, not many of the other Slytherins from their school days had managed to avoid jail or poverty, much less become successful and wealthier than ever. She smiled at Conrad as he talked on about ideas to settle the dispute over the house.

"Have you considered building a new facility, Hermione?" he asked

Lost in her own thoughts and half-way playing with Tom, she didn't answer. "Hermione?"

"What? Huh?" She stumbled "Sorry, Conrad. Lost in Thought. What were you asking?"

Draco smirked. He'd never known her to drift off, day dream and fail to pay attention. What exactly she was daydreaming about, he couldn't imagine, but he planned to use it to his advantage.

"Warrington, if you were to build a new facility, how long would it take and who would pay for it?"

Conrad turned to Draco, ignoring Hermione's indignant gasp.

"Wait…" she started, but Warrington spoke over her.

"It would probably take six months of constant work and the estate has more than enough money to pay for it."

"Six months? Surely you could put a rush on such an important matter. I don't wish to wait that long. Perhaps you can find a temporary facility for the little urchins. As far as the money's concerned, I don't care if you keep every knut. It's a small price to pay for having a little peace and quiet. Just ensure you have enough left over to run the place, for my generosity has nearly reached its end."

"JUST A MOMENT!" She screeched. Both wizards turned their heads toward her.

"I don't want to uproot the children! They've been through enough already. I will not consider moving them once much less twice. Besides, this house and grounds have special protections for all who live here. For centuries the Malfoys have layered protective spells and wards on the place to protect themselves from every imaginable danger. Everything from severe weather to dark spells. It's like living in a fortress. You could never duplicate that kind of security in a new facility."

Warrington turned to Draco with an inquisitive look on his face.

"It's true." He said.

"Well, I can talk to the Ministry and see what sort of protective …."

"NO. We're not leaving. This is our home, I'm not moving them. And what of the children who are at school? Can you imagine coming home to a different place every holiday? I won't do it."

School? Draco looked puzzled. He assumed all the orphans lived at the Manor full-time. Of course, it made sense that some of them would go off to school when the appropriate age.

"Hermione, you must listen to reason. This house, as big and nice as it is, is quickly reaching capacity. If you won't build a new facility, you're going to have to allow adoptions."

She looked stricken. "Adoptions?" Draco asked. "You mean you're not trying to find new homes for these…. He gestured toward Tom"

"I…. I… I … what if they ended up in bad places… like Harry? I couldn't live with myself..." she said, tearfully.

Draco thought his head would explode. She wasn't even trying to find homes for the little waifs! That just figured.

"We're clearly not getting anywhere" Warrington said "Hermione, why don't you get Muriel to look after the baby and have lunch with me so we can go over the financial reports for last quarter. I promise I won't discuss the A word anymore."

"Muriel has her hands full and some of the teachers are sick. In fact, I left James, the steward in charge of eight four-year-olds. I can't go… unless… perhaps if you would help me get the children fed and down for their naps….. then anyone could watch them" she looked up at Draco with hopeful eyes, tears forgotten.

"Oh no, Granger. NO. I am not a nanny. No."

An hour later, he was standing in the kitchen, Tom on his hip trying to figure out what he was going to do with dozens of well-rested, rambunctious children upon completion of their naps, when he thought he heard the pop of apparition outside the kitchen door. Definitely not possible since the apparition wards remained in place for all but blood relations and aurors with a special talisman to let them through (One of the fruits of Nymphadora's labors, no doubt she'd pried the secret from Narcissa's mind).

He stepped through the door to find the traitor-in-question.

"Did you forget our meeting?" she asked, a hint of laughter on her lips.

"No. But as you can see, I'm a bit preoccupied"

"Where are all the teachers?" she asked

"SICK. Everyone is sick except for me, Granger and about three dozen sleeping kids. The Headmistress has abandoned her duty to go make cow eyes at Conrad Warrington, leaving me stuck here with a kitchen full of dirty crockery and a squalling brat."

"He doesn't look to be squalling at the moment" she smiled, tickling Tom. She held her hands out and he leaned toward her without argument. Draco was a little relieved. That put the number of people Tom would allow to touch him at three. He left Tonks cooing at the infant while he made tea, cursing Warrington and Granger and swearing he would not touch one dirty dish. Let her get Warrington in here, up to his elbows in suds.

Finally, he sat at the table with his tea. Tom was giggling at Tonks who was literally making faces at him, using her morphing ability.

"So…" she said, looking at him uncertainly

"SO?" he asked

"Our meeting"

"Ah yes. I suppose we can have it here, since the children are sleeping and Granger is out." After pausing a moment to gather his thoughts he said "I require your assistance and as it's a family matter, I should think you won't have any problems helping me. That and the fact that if you refuse, I shall go to the Prophet and let them know you and the ministry are holding my mother hostage and forcefully probing her memory"

"On one condition"

He arched an eyebrow in her direction.

"You have to tell me the truth about where you went after that night in the tower and where you've been all this time"

"You said one condition. That's two. Lucky for you, the answer to both questions is identical. I'll have to swear you to secrecy. No telling the ministry."

"Of course"

Once the oath was performed, Draco stood and began to pace as he talked.

"I suppose the story really begins shortly after my family's arrival here from France in 1067. Even at that time, we were already bound, irrevocably, to the Dark Order; so when my 30th great grandfather became the first Lord Malfoy, he was still a pagan. He was given these lands by William the Conqueror, himself. The local lord, the last of his line, had died defending them against the Normans and upon his death; no one was left to rule. Hundreds of people depended upon the estate for their lives. The peasants who worked the fields and kept the manor going, were frightened of their new lord and eventually rebelled against him, citing witchcraft as their cause. The Church supported them and appealed to the king to have the new Lord removed and killed, unless he repented and professed himself a Christian. Of course, he had no choice in the matter, so he publicly declared himself a Christian and became a patron of the local church. He found valuable allies within the church, who were willing to look the other way as far as his actual religious practices went, so long as he kept the tithes coming. Eventually, the villagers felt at ease and life went on for nearly three centuries without incident. In the fourteenth century, during the throes of the Black Death, the village priest died. The Church was unable to find a replacement. No one was willing to come into a contaminated area. The villagers appealed to the Lord of the Manor at the time, who, along with his family, mysteriously managed to avoid the plague. They wanted him to provide them with a priest. It was well-known in the village that the Lady of the Manor at the time, Lucretia, was unable to have more children after the birth of the heir. Therefore, my grandfather kept a mistress in a cottage on the grounds. This was the building currently known as Dowager House. The mistress had given birth to a son, who was nearing his fifteenth summer. My grandfather volunteered to send the boy to Rome to be trained as a priest. He did not return to England, however, opting for a monastic life in France. After three years, the plague ended and Rome sent a replacement for the village priest, the bastard forgotten. Since that time, periodically, when indiscretion leads to the birth of a male offspring outside the bounds of marriage, the child is sent to study in France, where he is given the opportunity to be educated and eventually have an identity outside that of his father. Most of them opt to remain monks.

After the Reformation, the Malfoys in England, like everyone else, became protestant. The family chapel was abandoned and the villagers no longer concerned themselves with the Lord's religious practices so long as he continued his support of the local Anglican minister. The practice of sending illegitimate sons to France continued, however. At this time on the Continent, a Counter-Reformation was brewing. The Society of Jesus was formed and armed by the Pope to act as an army, defending Catholicism against Protestants. One of my bastard uncles helped to transform the quiet monastery into a Jesuit training facility. I guess you can begin to put the pieces together from there. When my grandfather, Abraxas, died unexpectedly, my father was informed by way of a letter written to my grandfather, of the existence of a half-brother, who was studying in France and required continued support until his ordination. The brothers struck up a correspondence that lasted many years. When my father received word of my assignment from the Dark Lord, he arranged for me to be taken to my uncle in France if things went badly. My Uncle Xavier, who by that time had become the Abbot in Navarre, agreed to take me in on the condition that I be trained and not just provided sanctuary. I had no choice but to agree, but I'm glad I did. It changed my life, saved me. I have been serving with the Jesuits on various missions ever since. In fact, I had no intention of ever returning here.

"And yet, here you are" Nymphadora said quietly.

"And yet…"

"I don't understand how your father orchestrated the whole thing from jail"

"Ah, he couldn't have under the dementors, but seeing as how Scrimgeour replaced them with human guards… well… money talks, you know. My mother bribed everyone from the Warden down to allow my father a modicum of freedom"

"So, why are you here?"

"That is an interesting question and actually the reason I require your help. My Superior has received information about the rise of a new dark force, perhaps a new Lord. I have been sent to investigate."

"But I thought you said it was family business"

"Did you hear me say my family is irrevocable tied…"

"So, you want me to…."

"Help me break my family's bond…"

"HOW?"

Before he could answer any further, he heard giggling in the hallway. Granger.

"Oh hello" she said as they emerged from the kitchen, a weird grin on her face. "Are the children STILL asleep, Malfoy? You were supposed to wake them up. They'll never sleep tonight!" She rushed up the stairs.

Tonks laughed and said to Tom "looks like she's had a three martini lunch, shall we go check on her?"

"Not until I tell you what I require."

"Ah yes. What is your bidding, Lord Malfoy?" she asked dramatically.

"I need access to the Malfoy family records removed by the Ministry"

"That all?"

"For now"

"DONE" she said, then boosting Tom upon her hip, went to find Hermione, leaving Draco to contemplate his fate. A long while later, he was doing just that as he turned to fetch his tea from the kitchen only to discover every one of the dishes had been cleaned and put away.

"Well, I'll be…."

"Oh good, you've done the dishes. Marvelous Job, Malfoy. You've been such a dear today, I can't thank you enough." The Headmistress laughed and kissing him on the cheek, turned and left.

He stood there for and undetermined amount of time, pondering whether he was losing his mind.


	11. The Seventh Commandment: concerning lust

Chapter Eleven: The Seventh Commandment

**A/N: So, here's the new and improved chapter eleven…. For better or worse. I plan to post it with chapter twelve.**

Draco scrubbed his hands over his eyes and muttered to himself. "No. No….. No. No. This can't be happening. I put this behind me…. Not again!"

He heard the water turn off behind him and rushed toward his bed, hiding under the linens, feigning sleep in case she decided to come in and ask him what in the bloody hell he thought he was doing walking in on her like that.

It had begun innocently enough. Three days before, after a long afternoon of chasing children all over the manor, Tonks had gone home when the last of the little nippers had been shooed off to dreamland. Draco took Tom and was walking the hallway outside his chamber to help sooth the fussy infant until sleep overtook him. He was casually discussing the day's events with the portraits of his grandfathers when Abraxas decided to get something off his chest that had been weighing on him for a while.

"Are you a homosexual?"

Draco sputtered…."What?"

"I said are you a …"

"I heard you, but I don't understand what prompted the question?"

The other grandfathers began to mutter and talk amongst themselves. Abraxas' own father, Alexander, protested rather loudly that they should all calm down lest they alert the Headmistress to what was obviously an ongoing debate among them.

Lucius spoke this time "He is not gay. He isn't anything, I told you. He's taken a vow of celibacy"

Old Hiero said "Yes, yes, boy we know. But there's celibate and there's celibate, you know?"

Draco interrupted here. "What is all this ridiculous speculation about my sexual proclivities?"

Hiero answered. "Malfoys are, by nature and despite appearances, passionate creatures. Also, we are self-serving but logical creatures. As far as we can tell, your behaviour serves neither of those ends. What is the purpose of breaking our bond with the Dark Order if you intend to be the last of our line anyway? (Upon saying this, he sneered at Tom, causing Draco to hold the infant a fraction of an inch closer) Why not just go into hiding and wait to pass away quietly, thus breaking the bond? That way, you ensure yourself, at least a nice long life, instead of rushing headlong into some foolhardy venture which shall surely result in you death and the aforementioned end of our line. Second. You live with the most alarmingly attractive young woman I have ever seen grace these halls with the possible exception of my dear Isabella and yet, you obviously haven't done anything about it"

Draco scrunched up his nose and laughed. "You all think I'm a…. I'm gay because I'm not attracted to Granger?" He asked, incredulously.

"I assure you. If one of us were given the chance, we wouldn't be singing lullabies to motherless waifs and behaving like schoolboys at chapel."

Draco laughed again. "Barmy. You're all barmy. I'll have you know, as part of my training with the Jesuits, I learned to tune out my desires, to re-channel sexual energy into…. Wait, how exactly do you know I haven't done anything about it?"

A devilish smirk graced Lucius' face. "We can hear her"

Draco scrunched up his own face in confusion. "Come again?"

"We can hear her…. When she….ah….relieves the … uh scratching the ….. itch"

"You mean Granger is sneaking a man …."

He was interrupted "No. There is no man. Just her….and those long, luscious legs…"here, Hiero paused and let out a visible shudder. "I tried for years to get the elves to put a small picture of me in her chambers, but alas…."

"Enough! Enough!" Draco said. "Ridiculous. I'm going to bed. Goodnight"

"Just as well" Hiero said "From the sound of things, you probably couldn't handle her anyway". The others laughed. Draco rolled his eyes and wished for a nest of canvas- eating moths to infect the manor.

Sighing, he entered his chamber and went through his side of the suite to take Tom to Granger. The last thing he needed was for the randy horde to see him entering her room. He knocked softly on the door. She beckoned him with a breathy "enter".

He was prepared to just let the rantings of the horny old codgers go, but that was before he walked into her room. She was wearing naught but a white tee shirt (rather small, he thought) and an even smaller pair of cotton knickers. She was half-lying on the bed as though she'd sat upon it and then lay back, with her feet still on the floor beneath. A serene smile graced her features, her eyes were closed.

Draco averted his eyes and struggled for enough breath to speak. "I'll just put Tom…uh…down"

She simply sighed in response.

"You alright?"

Another sigh.

He struggled to think of something intelligible to say, but really wanted to beat a hasty retreat back to his own room. Then, as he reached the door, some demon from Hell possessed his mouth and said "Hermione Granger, acting like Lavender Brown on amortensis. Who'd have thought it even possible?"

This seemed to shake her out of her stupor. She sat up and shook her head but made no effort to further cover her body. "No, no. Definitely not"

"Then why all the…."

She looked at him and sighed again "I guess it's just…. You may not have picked up on this, but…. Conrad likes me… fancies me"

He laughed and pretended to gasp "No, really?"

"Yes" she insisted. "I…uh... he's not really my type, but…it's just nice you know? He tells me how beautiful he thinks I am…. And I don't know…. It's just nice to hear. In all the years I was married to Ron, he never once told me he thought I was pretty. I know it's silly and girly…but…"

"Say no more" Draco said "A husband should make it his first priority to let his wife know she's appreciated."

She smiled "Yes. Exactly"

"Well…. Goodnight"

"Goodnight" she sighed one last time.

Looking back on it, Draco realized he should have just returned to his room, turned in for the night and forgotten the whole thing but he just couldn't let it go. He tossed and turned in his bed, wondering what in the wide world was wrong with Ronald Weasley. Maybe he'd been the subject of his twin brothers' early experiments for their joke shop products….Perhaps brain damage caused by malnutrition during his early years before arriving at Hogwarts. He certainly acted like he was trying to make up for years of going without food, the way he swallowed every meal whole. Had the stupid oaf really never told his wife he thought she was attractive? Or was that typical Granger-borne hyperbole? Probably not. Wasn't that somewhere on page one of the Husband's Handbook? _Tell thy wife she is pretty_. He thought back to his parents' relationship before "the return"… before his father's imprisonment… Lucius was an ambitious, single-minded man but even he took time from his scheming attempts to gain power to show Narcissa affection and assure her of his continued adoration. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep in which he dreamed of Conrad Warrington offering to trade Weasley a ham sandwich for his wife.

The next day, when he was supposed to be minding the four year olds, who were choosing pumpkins in the garden for Halloween, it occurred to him that Granger was probably considering giving herself to Warrington because she thought no one else appreciated her. All the while his grandfathers were lusting after her like wolves on the hunt. He thought he'd just go and tell her that there were other options, that others found her to be not just attractive, but intelligent and ….. That was his fatal mistake, really. He'd mentally prepared a little speech, listing all of the qualities she possessed which would make her a good mate… he decided to wait until the evening to tell her.

That afternoon, he had an appointment with Nymphadora to have tea with his mother. He'd ceased to let anyone see her unless he was present. Even though Tonks claimed to be on his side now, he stuck to the family rule about outsiders: Trust No One.

He came home late that night to be pleasantly surprised to find Tom asleep downstairs in the arms of Claire, who was looking considerably healthier than she had in many days. She smiled up at him and put her finger to her lips. He nodded once and decided to take the opportunity to tell Granger about his list and try to persuade her to stop seeing Warrington outside of a professional capacity……and then he'd walked right into the bathroom without knocking and found her there….scratching the itch.

His feet were rooted to the spot and his mouth fell open; he found it impossible to tear his eyes from the sight of Hermione Granger running her small lovely hands (number 3 on his list of her attractive qualities) all over her wet, naked body (which he'd left off of the list as he'd had no idea just how attractive she was). She took no notice of him and moved her hands lower….

She made a small, keening sound and Draco simultaneously felt its effect on his own body. Whimpering, he held onto the doorframe for support. She made another small sound and he knew he had to get out of there before he did something very foolish. He retreated back into his room, pushing the door shut behind him and immediately began to try and get his breathing under control in order to suppress the rampant thoughts flooding his mind. He dropped to his knees, preparing to pray away the visions in his head, but ten years of celibacy had left a lot of pent up frustration. Once the floodgates were open, there was no going back. He fell to the floor and begged God to kill him and get it over with.

Perhaps half an hour later, he drug himself to his bed and as he tossed and turned, agonizing over visions of Granger pleasuring herself, a random thing his grandfather said floated up out of the ether. "I tried for years to get the elves to put a small picture of me in her chambers, but alas…"

He sat straight up, an epiphany working his way to the surface.


	12. Multiple Misunderstandings

**A/n **

**I revised chapter eleven, so read that first… no major changes, just small ones to make it more palatable…..**

Chapter twelve

Multiple Misunderstandings………..

If she didn't know better, Hermione would say that Malfoy was avoiding her. But that was silly, what reason….. unless….. he was up to something. What was she saying? He was a Malfoy, he was up to something since the day he was born!

But what? He'd scarcely left the manor for the past week, busily making arrangements for his mother's visit. Perhaps, that was it. Maybe his story about Narcissa coming home for Halloween was exactly that and she was coming home permanently and he just didn't want to say….. still, that seemed relatively minor….. this had to be something else, the man could hardly look her in the face before muttering an excuse and bolting from the room………

Well, at least the Dragon Pox epidemic which had overtaken the entire school seemed to be in its waning stages and Tom seemed to be settling down. Things were beginning to look up, even if Draco was acting strangely. That, she could deal with, barfing, spotted children with high fevers, sleepless nights and colicky infants, she could not.

A short while later, her thoughts were drawn from her paperwork by a knock on the door. She was pleasantly surprised to see Muriel, out of the infirmary but still looking grim.

"Headmistress, I feel there is a matter I need to discuss with you"

"Muriel, what is it? One of the children?"

"Of sorts, although, I know this is a technically ethically questionable thing to divulge, I feel I'm doing it in the child's interest and so I feel justified…. I'm getting away from the task at hand. "She drew a great breath and began again "first let me say, that when Miss Clearwater wanted to stay on and become a teacher here after leaving school, I thought it was a bad idea. I thought she should go out into the world and make a life for herself. But as this had been her home for the last seven years, I felt she was probably afraid to leave and so I held my tongue, but now I feel I must intervene, on her behalf."

"Muriel, please tell me, what is it?" Hermione asked, growing more frightened as the moments passed.

"As you know, the girl has been ill. At first she refused to let me look at her, at all. I suspected she might be experimenting with muggle drugs or drink from the village. Last night, she collapsed in the kitchen. I looked her over and discovered her to be almost two months pregnant."

Hermione gasped. "Oh my lord! The poor child! Do we have any idea who the father is?"

At this, Muriel just raised one shaggy grey brow so that it appeared over the rim of her spectacles. "Are you kidding?"

Hermione, who had risen upon Muriel's announcement, fell back into her chair. "Surely, you don't mean…."

"Do you think it's an accident that she is in raptures every time he walks into a room?"

"But… he's…. I thought….. But I did catch him sneaking her into his room….." she agonized for a moment before asking, "What are we going to do?"

"Well, the girl is in denial about the whole thing. Won't answer any questions. She's afraid you're going to toss her out on her ear… as if you'd do that. Of course, she has no hope the letch will do the right thing and take responsibility for the child…We'll just have to help her out the best we can"

"Perhaps we could talk to him. He has a right to know."

"You don't think he'd try to talk her into disposing of it? Hide his guilt?"

With those words, Muriel turned and left.

Hermione sat, stunned at her desk. How could she have misjudged him so? Actually, that wasn't right. She was suspicious of him all along, but kept second guessing herself because he was ….so… so what? Good with the children? Friendly? Kind to his mother and chatty with his cousin? No, because he was so considerate to her, insinuating that he thought her to be intelligent, brave and …. Well, he …. He was charming and so sweet to Tom…. She banged her head on the desk. He'd charmed her into trusting him, the slimy git! Now, as she realized what a fool she'd been, liquid fury pumped through her veins. She would string him up by that collar he hid behind! She should've known this would happen! She thought of the story he told her about the girl in his last Parish. He'd even admitted to her that he was on sabbatical because of it! Ooh…. Draco Malfoy would pay…. She'd see to that.

Stomping over to the floo, she decided it was time to break out the big guns.

Throwing in the glistening powder, she called out "HARRY POTTER!"

Meanwhile in London……………………

Draco was in Tonks' office at the ministry. They were looking through journals pilfered from the confiscated literature section in the Ministry's archives. Draco had his father's last set of entries before him, but couldn't concentrate. He was reminding himself over and over. "You are a young, healthy man who is having a normal, biological reaction to seeing a young, healthy woman. That does not mean you are attracted to her……" In the days following the incident, Draco had tried to use his training as a Jesuit to help him get over his near-constant thoughts of Granger. That however, hadn't helped. So, he turned to something else, something older. He had been trained from the cradle to hide his emotions, to be aloof and distant, despite whatever rage or madness lurked beneath the surface. So in the end, his training as a Malfoy beat out his training as a priest. He avoided her at all costs, should she accidentally provoke him in some small way and break the small measure of control he'd managed to hang onto. He poured himself into his research and preparations for Narcissa's Halloween visit to take place in three days. The mantra was working for now, if only to enforce his denial of reality. So he repeated it again, "You are a young, healthy man who is having a normal, biological reaction to seeing a young, healthy woman. That does not mean you are attracted to her… '

Tonks was reading about Old Hiero's escapades as a boy and was chortling happily at his description of nearly getting expelled from Hogwarts over a quart of firewhiskey, a naughty painting of himself doing the Tango with Rowena Ravenclaw and some contraband timeturners.

Draco ignored Tonks and said "I'm specifically looking, today at least, for details about the Family's original agreement with the house elves."

Just then, the door to her office opened and Tonks shoved the journals under some other files on her extremely messy desk as the Minister for Magic himself walked into the office.

"Oh Hello, Nymphadora. Hello, Mr. Malfoy"

"Minister" Draco said, trying to maintain his composure

"What brings you by today? Catching up with your cousin?" He asked suspiciously.

At first, Draco was going to say they were discussing his mother, but he didn't want to give the Minister another reason to torture her and tamper with her memories, so he scrabbled around for something innocent-sounding to say.

"I was just here, asking my cousin if she could talk to Granger about her stubborn refusal to allow adoptions at ADHOC"

The Minister went very still and his face slowly drew up in confusion.

"Pardon?"

"ADHOC, the orphanage? Warrington and I are trying to get the Headmistress to allow adoptions."

"There aren't adoptions?"

"No. Granger is afraid the children will wind up in bad homes, like Potter"

Now, Arthur Weasley began to laugh "Poor Hermione, Bless her, she'd take in every lost soul in the world if she thought she could. Well, Mr. Malfoy, you let Tonks get back to her job and let me take care of the orphans."

"Thank you, Minister." Draco said, exiting. Outside he let out a relieved sigh, "Well, well, two birds with one stone…."


End file.
